Battlestar Hermes 2: Faststar
by The Wilky Bar Kid
Summary: Follow-on from SALVAGE. An old ally is discovered to have survived the fall of the colonies with news of a secret base that could allow Hermes to repair its damage. But what secret is being kept from the crew of the refugee Battlestar.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

**This story follows on from 'Battlestar Hermes: Salvage'. After writing 'Salvage' I've now had a chance to explore what works and what doesn't when it comes to writing the Hermes story. As a result 'Faststar' is in a slightly different format which I think makes the story clearer. **

**Hope you enjoy…

* * *

**

**Delphi, Caprica  
One year before 'The Fall'.**

_For the attention of Colonel Artimus Bowman, you are hereby requested and required to take command of the Battlestar Hermes BS-58. For this new tasking you are to be assigned the rank of Commander with all the privileges and responsibilities that come with it._

Artimus Bowman fell back onto the soft mattress of his bed as the rather copious amount of champagne he had consumed earlier that day began to set in leaving his head with a sensation that could only be likened to being a leaf caught in a hurricane. His wife, Brooke Bowman, lay down beside him smiling at him brightly. She was still wearing her elegant blue dinner dress that she had worn at the reception from which they had just returned. Looking down at him she smiled as her eyes filled with joy. She was so proud of her husband. Earlier that day Colonel Artimus Bowman became Commander Artimus Bowman and he had received word that he was to take command of a Battlestar, namely the Hermes.

"You're drunk!" she laughed stating the obvious in a teasing and playful way as she nestled herself under his right arm and began to lay on his chest.

"It doesn't happen often," he slurred with his eyes shut.

"I think I can forgive you today…Commander," she said. It seemed that everyone around him was making a concerted effort to address him by his new rank from the moment Admiral Nagala had pinned those two little pips onto his collar. _Get used to it Commander_ were the only words of advice his friend Scott Tolan, himself a Rear-Admiral and sponsor of Bowman's promotion, could give.

"Commander!" slurred Artimus. "Com-man-der! Oh Gods help me! I don't know if I'm ready for this."

Brooke looked up at him and laughed as she said, "It's a little late to be having cold feet." He suddenly sat up pushing his wife's head off his chest. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees he buried his face into his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. "Are you ok?"

Artimus Bowman wasn't sure how to respond. The whirlwind that was the promotion ceremony and the following reception had now subsided and the realization of what his new duties would entail left him feeling as though a noose was tightening around his neck. It was a noose he was placing there himself.

"There are over three thousand people on Hermes all waiting for me to lead them," he uttered to her although she suspected it was more for his own benefit. It was a way of airing what he had bent up inside. "They're going to be looking at me for all the right answers and I'm not sure I have them all yet. I don't think I'm ready. I mean…what if I screw it up?"

"You won't!" she said confidently as she sat up to sit beside him. "Look, I'm sure every Commander in history has said the same thing you are right now." She put her arms around him and kissed him delicately on the cheek before resting her head on his right shoulder. "That's the one thing I always found odd about you, Artimus. You never seemed to have any ambition." Artimus looked at her not sure if she was paying him a compliment or an insult. Seeing the confused look on her husband's face Brooke felt compelled to explain, "You never wanted to be CAG aboard Valkyrie but it was given to you. After that you never really wanted to be XO of the Cerberus but again it was given to you. I remember us having similar conversations to this one each time you were promoted and look what happened; you exceeded everyone's expectations especially your own. That's why they promoted you again and again. You're one of these people who get put in the right place at the right time because you are the right person to do it. When push comes to shove you've always known the right thing to do. That's one of the reasons why I fell in love with you."

"I hope you're right," he said as their heads tilted lovingly together.

"I now I'm right," she whispered. "You'll see."

She stood up and turned to face him. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed.

"_Action stations! Action stations! Set condition one throughout the ship, this not a drill!"

* * *

_

**Battlestar Hermes  
38 Days since 'The Fall'**

Sitting in the darkness the scarred and burned hull of the Battlestar Hermes glided through space as elegantly as it ever had done in its lifetime. Its wounds that cut deeply into its skin served only as a challenge to fate itself. It was as if the Hermes was screaming to the Gods that it was not dead! Hermes was a fighter and a survivor and even with the damage to its hull that became visible in what little light there was in this part of space almost seventeen light years from the Colonies the ship still gave off an air of strength and power. Nestled in the safety of the Starboard Hangar Pod the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis sat like a baby bird hiding under its mother's wing protecting it from the rain.

It has been five days since the battle above Scorpia.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

The klaxons wailed their all too familiar sound bringing the ship to battle stations. Artimus Bowman arrived in the CIC and in an instant assessed the state of his crew who helped run the 'brain' of the Battlestar. They were working through their duties in a magnificent fashion. He could see they were scared and that was always a good thing. Fear, when controlled, can be a tool. It keeps the senses sharp and can push someone to strive to do their jobs right. A Commander doesn't concern himself with those who look scared except when that fear inhibits the workings of his vessel. Its when the crew doesn't look scared that you worry about them for it is then they have accepted that death is around the corner and in that frame of mind a person sometimes makes a subconscious effort to speed up what they deem to be their 'fate'.

From the moment Commander Artimus Bowman arrived in the CIC it took on a new aura. Despite the seemingly blind panic that always followed the sounding of Condition One everyone seemed to stop to note that he was there. He was a reassuring figure to them all. He had led them successfully through hell for over a month now. They had survived wave after wave of Baseships and Raiders and even attacked the Cylon occupational forces above Scorpia. It had cost them in terms of lives and equipment but Hermes and more importantly the survivors crammed aboard the refugee Battlestar had survived.

"SITREP!" he called out to Colonel Dytto as he walked upto his XO standing at the Operations Desk in the middle of the room.

"Single Cylon Baseship at extreme range, CBDR," explained Dytto clearly and without a hint of hesitation or apprehension in his voice. While the crew respected Bowman many of them feared Dytto. Together they had kept everyone in line but it had not always been this way. Many still couldn't adjust to this 'new' Dytto who seemed to be firmly in Bowman's pocket while others still saw the past hostility towards one another occasionally bubble to the surface but it never erupted like it used to.

"Same tactic as before," commented Bowman looking up at the DRADIS screen hanging down from the ceiling of the CIC over the Operations Desk.

"Yes sir," added Dytto.

For the past five days the Cylons had pursued Hermes through space following the battle above Scorpia. Once each day a Baseship would appear at extreme range and try to attack the Battlestar. Each time, Hermes jumped away rather than fight but it was taking its toll.

"Begin jump prep!" ordered Bowman who then said to Dytto, "Better to live another day."

"You'll get no arguments from me, sir," said Dytto and the two of them shared a small joke as they both recalled the countless times they had been at each other's throats. Their amusement was shortlived.

"Sir!" called out Petty Officer Durand manning the communications station. Bowman looked at him in acknowledgment. "Engine room still reporting fluctuations in FTL output. They do not advise jumping at the present time."

"They do not advise it?" barked Dytto. "Don't they know what's going on up here? There's a frakking Baseship out there!"

"Sir," protested Durand. "They're saying that ever since the FTL hiccup we performed at Scorpia the spool on the number one drive has been slackened due to wear and tear on the gears. They can respool it but it will take twenty minutes or so to do and is only a stop-gap measure. They were in the process of repairing it when the Baseship appeared."

"Well that's perfect," uttered Bowman quite cynically. "Guess we have to buy ourselves twenty minutes." He then turned back to Dytto. "Looks like we are going to earn that extra day, Colonel."

* * *

The Cylon Baseship continued its slow advance towards the Battlestar. Tucked away like bats clinging to the roof of a cave were the swarms of Cylon Raiders. What no one aboard Hermes knew was that they had already fought and killed several of these little warriors above Scorpia. They had since then downloaded into new bodies and were itching for payback.

The Cylon Raider is a simple creature. It is barely sentient and thinks of itself as being little more than a drone or a member of a pack. It has very little sense of being self aware except when it feels pain. To die and be reborn is a painful and sometimes traumatic experience even for a Raider. In a sense it is never the same again. It becomes angry and bitter. It gets a taste for blood to make amends for the suffering it has endured.

This was how many of the Raiders felt as they began to swoop out of their sacks along the arms of the Baseship and began to dive headlong out into space searching for their prey.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

Captain Chloe Burmeister watched on her tactical display as the Baseship began to change shape as if it were bursting open. Of course that wasn't what was actually happening. The reality was this strange transformation the Baseship appears to undertake is what happens when the Raiders are first launched. They are so close together that the DRADIS can't distinguish between them and they appear as one big object. As the Raiders move away the clutter clears up and the multiple new targets become visible.

"They're launching Raiders!" yelled Burmeister at the top of her voice.

"We'd better respond in kind," said Bowman to Dytto. "Launch Vipers!"

"Aye sir," said Dytto who yanked the handset from off the Operations Desk and thrust it to the side of his head before ordering over the loudspeakers, "Launch air wing!"

Bowman's eyes seemed glued to the DRADIS screen hanging over the Operations Desk. He was watching every move the Cylons made with his mind ticking over as he tried to theorize every possible attack plan their enemy could utilize against him and his ship. He felt like the Hermes was walking a tightrope balancing between life and death and any wrong command could spell the end for the Battlestar and its crew. It was a pressure that only those in command can truly understand.

An old conversation suddenly sprung to mind.

_What if I screw up…_

…_You won't!_

_I hope you're right…_

…_I know I'm right!_

"Vipers are away, sir!" announced Durand

* * *

**Port Hangar Pod  
No.3 Launch Tube**

The g-forces of being launched pinned Major Alex 'Griffon' Adonia to the seat of his Viper as he traversed the tube in less time than he could even think. Before long the vibration and force of the launch was replaced by tranquility as the Viper left the launch tube behind and began to glide freely in space.

'Griffon' looked all around him to get a fix on the other Vipers launching in the adjacent tubes before he swung his little ship around into a holding pattern above the Battlestar to await the rest of the air wing as they launched and formed up. Where once there were over one hundred and fifty Viper aboard Hermes now there were just forty eight. The others had either been lost in combat, damaged beyond repair during battle or simply gone unserviceable due to mechanical breakdowns and a lack of spare parts.

In order to help make up the shortfall the Raptors were having to take on a more aggressive role as well as their usual electronic warfare duties. Five Raptors darted out of the Port Hangar Deck to join up with the Vipers. Three were in a heavy fighter configuration with large box launchers for missiles and rotary rail guns hung beneath their stub wings. This was hardly an ideal arrangement since the increased mass of this configuration hindered maneuverability even in space.

The Vipers and Raptors took up their defensive formations above the dorsal hull of the Hermes waiting for their orders. 'Griffon' looked down at his weapons DRADIS screen and saw that the image was becoming distorted due to Cylon jamming. The two standard Raptors were quickly trying to counteract this effect and at intermittent points the image became clear before the Cylons countered their efforts once more.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

As the DRADIS signals began to clear up Bowman saw what his enemy were trying to do. They were using their superior numbers against the Hermes by trying to overwhelm its defenses. The Raiders were breaking up into three groups while the Baseship remained at extreme range and out of the battle. Bowman presumed that the Cylons believed Hermes had more ship-to-ship nukes that would prove devastating to the weak armour of the Baseship central axis. He silently wished it were true. The fact was that Hermes had no nuclear weapons left.

"Alright, listen up!" announced Bowman. "This is what they're going to do; they're going to attack in three groups. One will attack and break off as the second comes in and then repeat this with the third. Their goal is to attack us with our defenses repelling the previous attack. They know we're hurt and their going to use that. We have to make sure that we catch them out. Have 'Griffon' head towards the first wave and then wait for my orders!"

The CIC crew quickly acknowledged their Commander. Burmeister identified which group was the first wave of the Cylon attack after observing one of them heading directly for Hermes. The other two groups were still spreading out and away from one another in order to attack the Battlestar from opposite sides.

Burmeister announced to the CIC, "Cylon first wave bearing two-three-niner carom one-eight!"

'Griffon' acknowledged his orders from Hermes to head for the first wave with the air wing. After signaling to the pilots beside him he pulled the control stick around to the left and his Viper banked hard to port. The other Vipers and the Raptors quickly followed him. The electronic warfare Raptors were kept in the rear of the formation in order to better protect them whilst carrying out their vital duties.

"Weapons free!" called out 'Griffon' over the wireless as the air wing approached the initial Cylon attack force. "Remember to hold your fire until the last second. We don't have the ammo to waste just spitting fire into space."

The Vipers closed in on the Raiders. The distance between them was reducing rapidly. Theoretically a shell fired from either the Cylon or Colonial guns would go on forever until it eventually hit something but the guns were all trained to hit a spot at a certain distance away because this would increase the hitting power of the guns. Whereas a Raider or a Viper could survive a single shell hit, two shell hits in close proximity would double the damage as well increase the collateral damage around the impact point.

More than one of the Viper and Raptor pilots were having their doubts about surviving the next few minutes. They all knew that the Vipers were in need of maintenance that was becoming increasingly difficult due to the short supplies available to them. Nevertheless they pressed on determined to do their jobs and keep the Hermes safe.

They were now almost within firing range. Even 'Griffon's heart beat hard in his chest feeling like there was a worlds class boxer beating on the inside of his rib cage. Suddenly a voice emanating from Hermes crackled over the wireless to the Vipers and Raptors.

"Now! Break! Break! Break!"

Bowman's voice signaled for every one of the Vipers and Raptors to suddenly break hard away to the left and the right. This left the Raiders a direct line of sight to the Hermes. The hull of the Battlestar began to flicker as the defensive batteries opened up hurtling explosive shells into the Cylon formation. The Raiders unlucky enough to receive a direct hit exploded in a ball of flame and shrapnel that flew off into numerous directions. The proximity bursts damaged, although perhaps injured would be a more accurate description, those that they exploded nearby sending the first wave of Raiders into chaos.

Most of them continued onwards in their hell bent charge towards Hermes but the thick defensive fire either destroyed or crippled them. With the bulk of the Raiders in the first wave destroyed the survivors withdrew back to the Baseship.

'Griffon's Vipers and Raptors were now charging towards the second wave that was attacking Hermes from the Battlestar's rear hemisphere. Bowman's plan had been to avoid falling into the Cylon trap of getting caught up defending against one wave while the second and third attacked from different directions. Now that one wave had effectively been defeated he could concentrate his defenses against the other two waves. With 'Griffon's air wing hitting the second wave the defensive batteries turned on the third wave.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Civilian Section aka 'The Slum'**

The smell that once existed inside 'The Slum' was now an accepted part of everyday life in this part of the Hermes. The dirt and grime went almost totally unnoticed now as the ordinary civility of life in a modern society went straight out the air lock. Everyone just wanted to survive no matter what that would take.

'The Slum' itself was formerly the Marine Barrack Section which in times of war would have housed one and a half thousand Marines. Nearly twice that number of survivors were now crammed into the section of the Battlestar after their own ships were stripped for parts by the crew of the Battlestar Pegasus – as far as anyone aboard the Hermes was aware the Pegasus was the only other survivor from the Colonial Fleet. 'The Slum' consisted of five levels joined by large stairways at different points. Access to the section was through two main hatches on either side of 'The Slum'. There were no other ways in or out since the section was designed to act as life pod if the Hermes hull was breached. The idea was the section could be detached from the main ship and keep the Marines alive long enough to be rescued. The reality of this design for the civilians who now called it home was that they felt like rats in a cage where survival of the fittest was the order of the day.

"Please help me!"

Carlos Johan ran as fast as his legs could take him. He dived passed anyone who was in his way as he raced through the dimly lit corridors of 'The Slum'. On several occasions he knocked people over as he desperately tried to get away from his pursuers but with every step he took the more he realized that his time was almost up.

The two men who followed him were well known to the civilians in 'The Slum'. Everyone, without exception, cleared a path for them to continue their pursuit of Johan. They all knew what was coming. They had seen it several times since they had come aboard Hermes. In fact the only people who didn't seem to know about it were anyone outside of the civilian section. If they did then they weren't bothered anyway and this reinforced the idea that they had been forgotten by Bowman and his people except when they needed laborers to work on repairs to the ship. Whenever anyone saw Johan being chased by these two men they looked at him as though he were already dead.

He reached the stairwell on the fourth level and tried to run down the steps to the third level. His only hope was to get to the Marine guards at the hatchway and try to convince them to help him. It was here the last of his luck deserted him however. A missile struck the hull nearby causing 'The Slum' to tremble violently. He lost his footing and fell down several steps.

As he lay at the bottom of the steps his right arm ached terribly from the fall. He rolled on the floor trying to cradle his injuries as his pursuers caught up with him. There were at least a hundred people in view of what was going on including children as young as five. They all simply watched as the two men picked up Johan and tied a rope around his neck. They then tied the other end to the hand rail running down the stairwell. Johan's sobs echoed out even over the sound of weapons fire hitting the exterior hull of the Battlestar.

"You were frakking told not to screw with us!" barked the largest of the men who then proceeded to beat Johan in the stomach causing him to fall to the ground.

"Hey!" interrupted the other man. "You heard what he said; no physical injuries. Just hang the bastard!"

The larger man didn't like being told what to do and so he spat on Johan's head before dragging him back onto his feet. Those watching didn't know if Johan no longer had the strength to fight or whether he had just given up altogether. Either way he wasn't struggling as the two men lifted his body up over the handrail before throwing him over. Johan's body fell into the gap on the stairwell between level three and two until the rope tightened and crushed his neck. He died instantly. The two men simply watched as his body swung from side to side making no noise or movement. Once they were sure he was dead they simply walked away.

If anyone were to ask those who watched what happened they would all say the same thing; suicide. They all knew that there was no real law in 'The Slum'. If anyone spoke up they could guarantee that they would be next.

This was the truth that was life for the civilians aboard Hermes.

* * *

"Come on you mother frakker! Blink for me!"

'Griffon' had chased one particular Raider for over two and a half minutes which in dogfight terms was an eternity. His finger had developed an almost insatiable itch to fire on the Cylon that he was fighting with all his strength knowing full well that he was in an unfavorable position. It wasn't until the Raider tried to pull out of a sharp turn by cutting its engines and pointing the nose upwards did he get his opportunity. The Raider had just one second to pull off the evading maneuver but it was not enough. 'Griffon' saw his opportunity and his trigger finger finally pressed down. The Viper spat shells from its railguns that cut into the Raider's hull. Red 'blood' spewed from the dead Cylon before splattering across 'Griffon's Viper. 'Griffon' turned back into the main fight.

A fighter Raptor was sending two missiles into a formation of five Raiders that were themselves swooping back into the fight after turning away to regroup. One missed its target and the proximity fuse detonated the warhead damaging a nearby Raider. The second missile hit its target head on. The main fuselage of the Raider exploded into tiny bits each no bigger than a dinner plate. With the main hull gone the two wings broke away and began twisting away into infinity with their jagged edges still glowing red from the blast.

The Colonials had not had it all their own way however. 'Hot Top' had taken a hit in her number two engine forcing her to shut it down. With her performance significantly hindered 'Griffon' ordered her to land right away. She hit the Port Landing Deck quite hard and almost totally out of control. Her landing gear collapsed and the bottom of her Viper's hull scraped along the magnetized surface for several yards before finally coming to a halt.

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

A medic was attending to Durand after he had fallen forward and hit his head on his console following a nearby missile hit to the hull. A junior crewman named Fanto had now taken his place and was relaying all of Bowman's orders to the relevant section of the ship. Dytto had the intercom handset firmly on the side of his face talking to the snipes down in the engine room while Bowman continued to organize the defense.

"The bulk of the Cylon formation is regrouping on our port side," announced Burmeister who was watching events unfolding on her DRADIS. "The remainder are still engaged with our Vipers in our rear hemisphere."

"Have our port and dorsal batteries concentrate their efforts on breaking up that formation!" ordered Bowman. "Let's try and keep them off balance. Helm; give me a one hundred and fifty degree roll to port. Let's give our dorsal guns a clearer shot."

"Aye sir," replied the young crewman manning the helm, a native of Aerilon named Alison Melee.

Finally, Dytto relayed the words everyone was hoping to hear. "Engine room reporting FTL is green!"

"Combat landings!" boomed Bowman instantly. "Coordinate defensive batteries to provide cover fire for our air wing. Prepare to jump!"

With high explosive shells racing passed them the air wing hurtled head long towards the Port Landing Deck. The idea of a combat landing was simple; get on the deck as quick as possible. The reality was always a little different. Even with their reduced numbers the risk of collision amongst the air wing as they approached was frighteningly high. If the Alexis hadn't been docked into the Starboard Hangar Pod then they could have used both Landing Decks which would have meant that fewer Vipers and Raptors would have been trying to squeeze on board at one time.

The defensive batteries fired volley after volley of shells at the formation of Raiders trying to keep them from picking off 'Griffon's pilots as they tried to make their landings. The Vipers and Raptors were particularly vulnerable during their approach because they had to line up and fly straight and level into a confined space. The gunners aboard Hermes were doing a sterling job however keeping the Raiders at a good distance away allowing the air wing to land in the Port Hangar Pod.

The officer in the Traffic Control Centre positioned high above the Landing Deck looking down from the roof of the cavernous pod watched and waited until the last Viper and Raptor were down before reporting back to the CIC that they were all aboard.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

"Air wing is aboard," reported Dytto. "Jump coordinates have been inputted into the navigation computer."

"Jump the ship!" ordered Bowman.

Everyone who heard the order prepared for the sensation of being squeezed through an artificially created spatial distortion to another part of the galaxy. It is a strange feeling that can often leave those with a weak stomach feeling quite queasy.

* * *

In a blinding flash the Jupiter-class Battlestar Hermes vanished. The Raiders that were violently maneuvering to avoid getting hit by defensive fire suddenly leveled out and began to turn back towards the Baseship that had deliberately stayed out of the fight at extreme range.

Aboard the Baseship there was a representative of all seven main Cylon models. Each one of them had their hands in the gelatinous bio-neural interface that allowed them to receive information from the Baseship's sensors. With the Hermes now gone they had recalled their Raiders and given the Baseship orders to prepare to jump.

"They didn't run this time," said the Eight whose model had a keen insight into weapons and tactics. "They stayed to fight. It couldn't have been by choice. We must have damaged them more than we had previously estimated. And now even more so."

"Hermes is still intact," added the Five.

"They are resourceful," said the Two. "They will repair the damage and come back as strong."

"I agree," said the One smirking as he waited for the others to look his way before adding, "With each of you. According to our agent's report they're confidence is still quite high after their daring little mission to Scorpia. When someone survives death so many times they start to feel their invincible. Today was unfortunate but it will serve to reinforce their belief that they can fight on and that is the very thing we need to foster. We did a good job here today. We should be proud."

The Number One casually strolled away leaving his compatriots in the main command centre of the Baseship. Until the attack on the colonies they had all agreed unanimously on almost every single decision that had to be made but since then they had come into conflict on several occasions but the bitterest debates were over Cavil's plan for the Battlestar Hermes. Some directly supported it while others, particularly the Sixes, were quite weary of it.

Every Baseship has a hybrid to control it. The hybrids were an evolutionary dead end for the early Cylon Centurions in their efforts to become human. Aboard this particular Baseship the hybrid continued her ceaseless ranting of seemingly unimportant words just flowing from her mouth. Some of the Cylons believed that the words were simply nonsense spoken by a half-Cylon, half-human creature driven mad by its own existence while others believed that they were acting as God's voice;

_I can see them all.__The seven, now six, self-described machines who believe themselves without sin. But in time, it is sin that will consume them. They will know enmity, bitterness, the wrenching agony of one splintering into many.__ New line. Detecting abnormal nitrogen mix. Compensating. The ground upon which he has built his house shall crumble. And when it falls he shall mark those inferior to his being as his own. Radiation levels normal. The vanquished shall hear the call of the messenger but the message has been confused and lost. Blood runs through the hall of the house of God and his most righteous shall declare themselves as he without just thought or heart. They shall be guided by a winged leader who will partner himself to the sheaved swords of his enemies who will then reveal the serpent within._

_JUMP!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Battlestar Hermes  
Bowman's Office**

Artimus Bowman's office would be best described as being spartan in its decoration. It was a small room dominated by a desk that sat just a few feet away from the left wall, enough to fit Bowman's chair. There was a sofa perched up against the opposite wall that was intended to provide an informal setting for meetings between the Commander and his officers. It certainly wasn't as grand a room as the equivalent office aboard an Illustrious or Mercury-class and this fact was reinforced by Bowman's choice of decoration.

Sat atop his desk was a simple lamp with a green shade protruding from a bronze stand that arched over to the side. Bowman used to keep a model of a Raptor on the right side of the desk but it fell over and broke during a battle with the Cylons in the days following the bombing of the Twelve Colonies. There were a few small paintings dotted here and there on the wall mostly of old Battlestars including the Columbia, upon which his Grandfather served during the Cylon War as well as the first Battlestar to bear the name Hermes – a ship that met an unfortunate end.

The first Battlestar Hermes was a Manticore-class, a predecessor of the later Valkyrie-class. It entered service with the fleet almost five years after the end of the Cylon War and was attached to Battlestar Group 17 under the command of Rear Admiral Joanne Callis. In a harsh post-war economy the contractors who built the Battlestar were forced to cut corners in order to save cubits and thus safety was compromised. After being in service for only two years the reactor suffered a catastrophic meltdown that irradiated much of the ship and almost a thousand of her crew. Those that didn't die in the days following the accident suffered various forms of Cancer for the rest of their lives which often ended in an agonizing and painful death.

By contrast the Jupiter-class Battlestar Hermes BS-58 was a safer ship altogether. It had proven itself time and time again but as Bowman sat slumped groggily in his chair as Colonel Dytto read out the latest damage report, something that had become a daily routine for quite some time, Artimus began to wonder if like that older Battlestar Hermes was this one also cursed? It would be easy to say no since the ship had survived this long but what kind of life was this? He could see it in everyone's eyes on a daily basis; that half hearted wish to have died on the colonies with their families in the bombing rather than sitting out here in space crammed into a ship that was being pursued and beaten down by a relentless foe until that inevitable day when she could no longer fight back.

"Chief Imlay reports that Viper numbers are reaching a new low," explained Dytto as he read the sheet with an air of frustration that in truth was hiding his own feelings of anxiety and fear. "'Hot Top' took such a hard landing that there was very little that could be salvaged from it. Raptors aren't doing much better."

"We're going to be relying more and more on our own defensive batteries as time goes on," added Bowman. "How are they doing?"

"We still have a good proportion operating but they have worn us down on our rear port quarter."

"Hmm, have our repair teams disassemble some of the turrets where we can spare them and transfer them over," ordered Bowman whose eyes stayed fixed looking down onto his half empty stomach. Although Hermes had enough food for its population to last the better part of a year Bowman had seemed to have lost his appetite recently.

"That's great in theory," said Dytto looking up from the page after making a note on it regarding Bowman's orders. "But the truth is that's a lot of work in EVA suits and we don't know when the Cylons are going to hit us next. The only thing we know for certain is that they will. And that begs another question!"

"How are they tracking us?" finished Bowman.

"Yep," said Dytto. "According to every pencil pushing rear echelon mother frakker whoever wore a white coat and called himself an engineer it's impossible to track a ship through an FTL jump. Obviously the Cylons have found a way to do it."

"That's one possibility," uttered Bowman.

"Oh! You have another theory?"

Bowman sighed before looking up at Dytto. Dytto's eyebrows lowered in a questioning manner forcing Bowman to explain himself. "Caleb, there's something that I haven't told you since you were reinstated. Something I have learned about our enemy."

"Go on!" said Dytto whose teeth were grinding together at the discovery of having been kept out of the loop. Over the past five days he had been an exemplary XO and they both knew it. He thought surely he had earned Bowman's trust before now but at the same time he didn't really blame Bowman for keeping things from him. He sat quietly listening to his Commander revealing something that Dytto never thought possible even in his darkest nightmares. "Cylons look like us now?"

"Yes," confirmed Bowman.

Dytto got to his feet as if to only walk off the feeling of horror and disgust that was circling his stomach. He walked several paces away from Bowman's desk before turning sharply on the spot and saying, "My Gods that's…that's an abomination. It's disgusting! How dare they try to mimic the Gods." Bowman watched in that moment as Dytto's religious disgust gave way to tactical scenarios that were formed in his head as a result of this new information. "We took on over three thousand civilians from those ships we found; the ones ransacked by the Pegasus. We could have agents aboard Hermes and not even know it. That's how they could be tracking us!"

Bowman nodded slowly. "So far we have only identified one; the woman we brought back from the Hellenic Traveler over two weeks ago. It seems there was another copy of the same type or model that was involved in the deaths of the passengers aboard the Alexis. We circulated the photos of the woman around the civilian section but no one has seen her or if they have their not talking about it." Bowman looked away as a hint of regret suddenly emanated through his voice. "If only I hadn't sent Miss Biers back to Scorpia. I should have put her in a room with a picture of every single person aboard for her to look at. She'd seen some of the other types the Cylons have manufactured."

"Manufactured!" mouthed Dytto who had never heard people be described that way before. It was an insult to his religious upbringing to know that the Cylons were manufacturing human beings. He remembered what his local Priest, who was Chloe Burmeister's grandfather, on Gemenon always used to say; only the Gods can create life. Once the shock of this new information had subsided Dytto returned to his chair opposite Bowman's desk. "Who else knows about this?"

"Major Adonia and Captain Burmeister," explained Bowman. "I intend to keep it that way also. Agreed?"

Dytto acknowledged with a single nod. "So…How do we go about finding out whose a Cylon and who isn't?"

"Well first things first, we need to know if we do have an agent onboard passing along information or whether they are tracking us somehow through our faster-than-light jumps. Now I have an idea to that end. We currently have the coordinates for our next four jumps already programmed into the Nav computer. It's just a case of preparing the FTL drive and making the necessary calculations."

"Yes but the FTL is proving a problem on its own," said Dytto waving the damage control report he had clutched in his hand. "We've got to make time for us to affect the necessary repairs or we're going to find ourselves dead in the water. We can still jump for the time being but every time we do we are increasing our chances of fouling the spool for good. That FTL hiccup over Scorpia has really thrown the thing. In peacetime we'd be _towed_ into drydock."

Bowman smiled momentarily as he spoke a joke he had heard pop up in his head, "Maybe I should give Admiral Tolan a call to see if we can borrow the Vestal?"

To Bowman's surprise Dytto smirked. It was a not-so-funny kind of joke that highlighted the tragedy that had befallen their race and yet they defiantly chose not to give in to despair even if it was only for a short second. More importantly they chose not to together.

Bowman continued to explain his plan. "I want to ready a Raptor to head to the coordinates we have already punched into our computer. At the last second I'm going to have Burmeister change our coordinates to a new set in another direction. If the Cylons are tracking Hermes then they will follow us to the new set of coordinates anyway. But if we have an agent onboard then they will go after the Raptor. Either way we will know which it is."

"Hmm," mumbled Dytto as he assessed the plan for any suggestions he might be able to offer the Commander. He found none and so he gave it his approval – not that Bowman needed it however. It was simply a gesture to help foster this new and more amicable relationship they had developed.

"I would like you to make the necessary arrangements with Adonia and Burmeister," added Bowman who saw that while Dytto didn't seem to mind working with Adonia he hesitated when Bowman mentioned Chloe Burmeister's name. Dytto and Chloe's father had been like brothers since they were small children and so he had become an honorary uncle to the young woman. He cared for as one would until he discovered that she was with child despite being unmarried thus violating a major Gemonese taboo. Since then they had barely spoken to each other and he did not relish the idea of having to work in secret with her on the preparations for this operation. "Is there a problem?" asked Bowman who had watched Dytto staring blankly for a few seconds.

"No!" said Dytto firmly he put his feelings aside to concentrate on the task at hand. "I'll get on it right away."

"Very good," added Bowman as Dytto got up to leave. Dytto was about to open the hatch when suddenly he heard Bowman call out to him, "Caleb!" Colonel Dytto turned to face his Commander once again as Bowman simply said, "We're the only family that's left. Remember that!"

Dytto didn't need Bowman to elaborate further. He knew exactly what Bowman was trying to say. In a roundabout way Bowman was pleading with him to make peace with Burmeister for their own sakes. They had been fortunate, if that was the correct term, to have survived the holocaust. Bowman was asking him not to spend the time they have left in loathing for one another. The one thing Dytto couldn't quite figure out was if Bowman was saying this as a Commanding Officer or as a friend trying to reach out to him. Dytto figured that over time he would come to realize which. For now he simply left leaving Artimus Bowman alone in his office with his thoughts.

This was the time Bowman hated the most. Whenever he took a few moments to himself he seemed to wrap himself up in pain and anguish. Guilt was always a predominate factor in his feelings. Guilt for having survived. Guilt for sending young men and women to their death. Sometimes even guilt for keeping the people aboard Hermes alive – was it fair? That was the question he had come to ask himself over and over. If there were Gods then were they just toying with them for some twisted amusement? While he always respected the beliefs of others Artimus Bowman had never really believed in the Lords of Kobol. Ironic therefore that he should now wish to have undeniable proof of their existence but not for comfort or solace but simply so he had a target for his own frustration.

The biggest frustration for him was always the same; that he would never see _her_ again.

He reached into the top most drawer in his desk and he was met by a beautiful pair of green eyes looking back up at him from the photograph that sat inside. He took it out and placed it on the desk in front of him. Brooke Bowman looked back at him smiling in that cheeky way he loved so much about her as if nothing had happened. He had kept this picture in the drawer since the fall of the colonies to make it easier for him to get through each day but the truth was he was ashamed to see her. Ashamed that he didn't do what he had always vowed to do which was protect her.

"Where are you baby?" he uttered as he placed his fingertips on the glass.

A supposedly wise man once wrote that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Bowman had come to the conclusion that whoever had said that had clearly never lost anyone. The pain could be tremendous in its intensity. It's a pain that can only be likened to a disemboweling. Perhaps it would have been better if he had never loved at all? Funny, a simple moment in a lifetime can alter the direction one takes onward.

* * *

**Delphi Public Library, Caprica  
Eight Years before 'The Fall'**

Artimus walked casually through the maze of bookshelves, his eyes just glancing over the titles written vertically down the spines of each book, looking for that one novel he came here to read almost everytime he was home for shore leave. It was a particularly rare book that had been out of print for many years and was highly sought after. The only place he knew he could obtain a copy was here at the Delphi Public Library. The trouble was that everytime he went looking for it there seemed to be some higher and mischievous force at work hiding it from him.

He turned a corner in the seemingly endless rows of books and walked under a sign that read 'Tauron Authors'. He knew the book he wanted should have been under 'Classic Fiction' but as per usual it had been moved and more often than not it was dumped into this section. His right hand slid across the books to help him focus his eyes as he walked in search of it. After looking for so long the titles seemed to merge together and he suspected he had already missed the one he was looking for.

As he walked along the fifth bookshelf in this section he suddenly spotted a young woman with long brown hair tied back into a ponytail trying desperately to reach a book on the top shelf. Her shorter stature made it hard work and so in a streak of chivalry Artimus walked up to her and said, "Here, can I help you with that? This the one?" Artimus pulled out a rather creased copy of 'The Final Hour', a classic Tauron love story made famous by its rather tragic ending.

"Thank you!" smiled the young woman in appreciation as she took the book. "I've been looking for this everywhere. You'd think they would do something about their organization in this place wouldn't you?"

"Tell me about it!" murmured a frustrated Bowman. "Have you ever read it before?"

"Once, I'm at Teacher Training College and I'm majoring in literature. This is the book we have been told we are going to work with this semester so naturally everyone in my year group has rushed out to get every copy." Feeling somewhat compelled to return the favor the young woman asked, "What are _you_ looking for?

"The Tempest," replied Artimus to which the young woman broke out into an enormous smile.

"Which rewrite?" she asked as if telling herself a private joke. 'The Tempest' was the first novel written by a Tauron called Radvic and was well known for having been rewritten seven times because he was never truly happy with it.

"The first one," explained Artimus. "I always felt Radvic did his best work before the Tauron Uprising. After that he became too dark for me. I take it you're not a big Radvic fan?"

"Not exactly," said the young woman politely. "I just don't like the fact that he kept changing it. He should have just published it once and been done with it."

"And you're majoring in literature?" asked Artimus feigning surprise. "You've clearly missed the point. The rewrites themselves tell a story. The basic plot of 'The Tempest' never changed throughout all seven rewrites but each one was written a different way reflecting the changes that were taking place in his life at that time. Radvic always said that the story was a reflection of his own life but our lives are never the same from one moment to the next are they? One day, one single moment can define the direction in which our life will go from now on. Sadly, we don't always recognize them."

Slightly taken aback the young woman smiled and said, "Well, clearly I should look into reading more Radvic."

"I'd recommend it," joked Artimus playfully. "Good luck with your studies."

"Thank you," she said as Artimus walked away in search of the first version of Radvic's 'The Tempest'.

Two hours later Artimus found himself in a bar just a few blocks from the library called PJ's. Artimus sat in the quiet Aerilon themed country bar with the book that he had so desperately searched for perched in his hands and an almost empty bottle of beer in front of him. After such a determined search for the book he was surprised that he now couldn't get into reading it properly and the words were just muddling together on the page. His thoughts had been dominated by the young woman he had met in the library. It was the strangest thing for him. They had only spoken briefly and yet he felt that there was some kind of energy between them. He repeatedly laughed it off as his ego merely flexing its muscles after all he would be pushing thirty next month and she was barely twenty if that.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the bar maid walking upto his table and placing a new bottle down next to his old one.

"Oh wait there must be some mistake!" he said. "I haven't ordered anything."

"I know," smiled the bar maid. "It came with a note."

Moving the book aside he saw that there was a small folded up piece of paper sitting next to the new bottle. The bar maid walked away leaving him to unravel this little mystery on his own. He opened up the piece of paper and to his surprise he saw a quote from the very book he was reading;

_I'll break my staff,  
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,  
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound,  
I'll drown my book._

Confused, Artimus looked up and saw the young woman he had met in the library standing at the bar smiling at him. He couldn't believe it was her yet again after she had dominated his thoughts so much. He picked up the fresh bottle and carried it and the book over to her. As he got nearer he saw that her young and soft complexion was reddening and she looked as though she had wrestled with her own hesitation to order him the drink.

"I believe a thank you is in order?" said Artimus.

"That would be the socially acceptable response to someone buying you a drink, yeah!" she said and the two of them smiled like a pair of nervous teenagers. She held out her hand and said, "I'm Brooke, Brooke Garner."

"Artimus Bowman," he replied smiling. "So are you going to let me return the favor?"

The two of them talked for over an hour about various topics but mostly about Brooke's studies. Artimus seemed genuinely interested and it was a refreshing relief for her to have someone whom she really connected to. The energy emanating from the two of them seemed to be almost visibly glowing as the two of them left the bar. As he walked through the door Artimus rather clumsily bumped into a mature man with a long grey raincoat and hat.

"Oh I'm sorry, entirely my fault," said Artimus humbly.

"That's ok," croaked the man who seemed annoyed by the collision. The man watched the two of them walk across the street with eyes that screamed loathing and disgust before turning to walk inside. Artimus would later forget the man's face. It seemed such an unimportant aspect of that otherwise momentous day in his life. It was impossible for him to have known that the face belonged to his enemy. The man was one of the John Cavil model Cylons, the same model that was now masquerading as the Hermes Chief Medical Officer – Dr James Deveroux.

* * *

**Lt. Nester Adrastos  
6th Day in Captivity  
Location: Unknown**

The Centurions came for him once again. Nester Adrastos had lost count how many times this had happened since he was captured on Scorpia. His sense of the passage of time had been all but lost due to a combination of sleep and sensory deprivation. The hooded Marine felt himself being dragged by his arms through what felt like miles and miles of finely polished floor, a conclusion he had come to due to the ease at which his limp body slid across its surface.

During his first day of captivity he tried to determine the distance he was taken from his holding cell to the interrogation room by the amount of time the journey took compared to the speed at which he felt the floor pass underneath him since this was his only reference he had to go by. Unless he was being interrogated by a specific Cylon who called himself Aaron Doral he almost always had a hood over his head. During the first day he estimated the journey to be a distance of between seventy to eighty yards. That was an extremely rough estimate to say the least since his method of calculating was hardly scientific. Now, however, the journey felt like miles compared to yards. He couldn't quite understand it. Maybe the Cylons were intentionally taking a longer route to the interrogation room to try and add to his confusion or maybe he was simply losing his grip of reality?

He had become so tired that the line between a dream and reality had begun to blur. He had no idea if he was dreaming or not until he felt the heavy thumping in his side from the Centurion guard to keep him awake. When that failed they would use what Adrastos assumed was some kind of cattle prod to force him into consciousness. Sometimes they would let him sleep for a few minutes to allow him to gather up a little bit of strength physically while at the same time continuing to weaken his mental barriers that he had established.

The Centurions came to a sudden halt. They released his arms and his body seemed to slap hard against the smooth ground. Adrastos didn't move as he lay there trying vainly to relish the few moments of peace after being dragged for so long. He could have sworn that this time the journey had taken an hour or more. Suddenly the hood was tugged off his head and Adrastos found himself looking up at Aaron Doral, a Cylon Number Five, staring down at him with his characteristic teal colored suit and arrogant smile. When Adrastos was allowed just a few moments to sleep he always dreamed of killing Doral with his hands wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Good evening Lieutenant," said Doral. Adrastos waited for the next words he knew were coming. He knew it because Doral always started each one of these sessions the same way. Doral stared into his eyes as he uttered the words, "Are you ready to surrender?"

Adrastos never answered any questions Doral put to him. Adrastos knew that while the body can be harmed it is the mind that needs to be protected for it is in that vital organ that the real battle between interrogator and prisoner takes place. During these sessions Adrastos would try to blank out the words that Doral was saying by singing songs in his mind or reciting books and poems he had read. His depleted energy was making this task harder and harder however and now he was beginning to listen to the things Doral was telling him even if he didn't want to. He simply couldn't help it.

After waiting for several seconds for an answer from Adrastos, Doral instructed the two Centurions to sit him up in the chair that was waiting for him. It was placed in front of a metal table on the opposite side of which Doral would sit. The menacing looking Centurions reached down for Adrastos and picked him. His body dangled between the lanky shapes of the two machines as they dragged him to the chair and placed him down on it before retreating into the corner of the room until they were needed again. The room itself was perfectly bare except for the table and two chairs. The walls, the floor and the ceiling was all painted in one shade of light blue and the only light came from a single exposed bulb that hung freely in the centre of the room since there were no windows.

Looking through tired and bloodshot eyes that stung bitterly Adrastos saw that Doral had a small brown folder with him today that sat on the table in front of the Cylon. Doral slowly opened it and proceeded to read it for a few moments before leaning forward onto the desk and staring at him.

"I am pleased to say that we have managed to retrieve more of your file today from the Colonial Fleet database, or what was left of it as the case may be," explained Doral smiling like a used car salesman. "I can assure you it has taken some considerable effort on our part. Digital forensics is a tricky science at best." Doral sat back up before reading some of the information written down on the page in front of him. "It says here that your younger brother, Otis Adrastos, ran the family vineyard on Virgon before the bombing. I'm curious about something; since you were the eldest child of the Adrastos family shouldn't _you_ have been the one to take over after your father's death? Hmm?"

Adrastos didn't answer. In fact he didn't respond in anyway at all. It was as if he had become detached from his body somehow except for his eyes and ears which were still feeding information to his brain. The mention of his brother and the family vineyard acted like a weed inside his mind that was strangling his sanity and patience. He was screaming for a release from this anguish but the signals refused to return to his body thus leaving him trapped inside a beaten and starved shell.

Doral seemed to quietly sigh in frustration.

"Why do you persist in fighting us, Lieutenant? It seems such a waste of effort on your part." Doral leaned back in the chair and folded his arms whilst his eyes remained fixed on Adrastos. "You must surely realize by now that all you are achieving is prolonging your own suffering. I think I know what it is that is keeping you from cooperating with us. You feel it would be a betrayal on your part. I can understand that but what you don't seem to understand is that you can't betray anyone. Not really. Your people and your fleet are gone. Hermes was destroyed in a battle above Scorpia. So too was the Alexis. Our forces bombed the stadium that you were using as a landing zone. I'm afraid to say that they were very thorough in the execution of their orders...there were no survivors."

Adrastos had heard this many times from Doral since the start of his captivity. He didn't know if he believed it or not since the Cylon had quite an impressive 'poker face' that didn't reveal anything at all except what was coming from his lips. He had chosen to put it to the back of his mind but the thought of Hermes being lost in battle lingered in his every thought and only served to heighten his desire to kill Aaron Doral.

"So don't you see it?" asked Doral leaning forward onto the table with his elbows. "There is no one left that you can betray so you might as well answer my questions and make life as easy as possible for yourself." Doral waited for a response but as usual he was disappointed. The Lieutenant stayed silent. "Very well. In truth I didn't expect you to answer me merely because I asked you to. I can see the mistrust in your eyes. You're wondering if what I am telling you is the truth or not and it's not knowing that's keeping you silent. Alright, I cane see you're tired so I will make a deal with you. I give you my word that if you answer just one question about yourself and no one else I will allow you eight full hours on your own in a room with a bed. I'll even give you some solid food to eat. I know that Simon has been feeding you intravenously. Personally I think it's a more efficient way of sustaining the body but it hardly satisfies the taste buds." Doral seemed to lean in closer to Adrastos as he reemphasized his offer, "One question about yourself. You will be betraying no one. Now, why did your younger brother take over the family business and not you? It's a simple little question. Come on! Tell me!"

Without even noticing he was doing so Adrastos was for the first time considering cooperation. The idea of being allowed a bed and some real food was an offer that felt too good to refuse. He tried to justify cooperating by telling himself that the information Doral wanted was about himself and as such he had the right to reveal whatever he wished. It seemed such a trivial question to be asked that surely no harm could come from answering it.

"Tell me!" repeated Doral more firmly.

The Cylon's voice suddenly triggered something in the back of Adrastos's mind. Something he had learned in training about interrogation. Do not answer even the most simple of questions because psychologically it opens the door to answering more sensitive questions later. That is a door that once opened cannot be closed and so Adrastos stubbornly looked away from his interrogator signaling his refusal to cooperate.

"Very well," sighed Doral who seemed genuinely disappointed. "I'm afraid I have no further time to waste on you. Centurions; take Lieutenant Adrastos to the airlock and throw him outside!" The two Centurions marched upto either side of Nester Adrastos before clutching him under his arms and lifting him up. "I am sorry Lieutenant. Truth is I admire you. You've done better than most I can assure you. But we all have to answer to someone." Doral then turned to the Centurion on Nester's right. "Carry out your orders!"

Once again Nester Adrastos was being dragged through a myriad of corridors only this time he could see where he was going since his captors had dispensed with the hood. Each of the corridors of the ship was identical. They were wide and painted in the same colour blue as the interrogation room. During the course of the journey to the airlock Adrastos saw several of the Human Cylon models but they passed by so quickly and his eyes were so tired that he didn't get a good look at any of them. The only Cylons he could really identify at the moment were the D'Annas, the Dorals and the blonde models he had seen in photographs taken from surveillance cameras aboard the Alexis as well as the identical woman who was found aboard the Hellenic Traveler. Only the tone of their hair differed.

It took just two minutes to reach the airlock. It was a large door no doubt designed for loading and unloading bulky cargo or large numbers of personnel or Centurions at any one time. The inner door slid upwards to allow the Centurions to drag Adrastos inside. They stopped in the middle of the space between the two doors and dropped him onto the ground before turning away and marching back into the corridor. Once they were clear the inner door slid closed once more.

Soon Adrastos could hear a faint hissing sound and he suspected that the air was slowly being expelled in order to avoid explosive decompression when the outer door was opened. Using the last of his strength Nester Adrastos managed to lift himself onto his feet. He had no intention of dying on the floor. It was his one final declaration of his refusal to surrender. The hissing gradually became louder indicating that the bulk of the air was now being removed. He sucked in what air he could before expelling it slowly in order to allow his lungs one last chance to experience oxygen before he died in the vacuum of space.

This was the second time in a week that he had faced the prospect of his own demise. The last time had been lying on the ground beside a burning truck when the convoy he was part of was ambushed. He felt sure that the Centurions that found him would have killed him but instead they captured him and brought him aboard this ship, a fact he didn't become aware of until just a few moments ago. While it would have been wrong for him to describe himself as wanting to die he had to admit that the thought of ending it all did have some appeal at that moment. In his mind he had suffered enough.

In a mighty clunk the outer door opened.

Instead of the black of space a brilliant beam of light burst through the widening gap blinding his tired eyes that had become accustomed to no or little light. He winced painfully as he tried to see what was infront of him. Trying to make sense of it he asked himself if the Cylons were venting him into a star? It was the only explanation he had for the intensity of the light coming from outside the ship.

He suddenly saw two long figures in front of him silhouetted against the light. They were walking towards him and it was not long before they were only a few inches from him. His eyes were now beginning to adjust and he saw that they were a man and a woman. The man was quite a scruffy looking individual with a rough complexion exacerbated by several days worth of facial hair.

The woman on the other hand he recognized almost immediately. She was a Cylon, specifically the model responsible for the deaths of the people aboard the Alexis. She had quite an athletic physique with dark blonde hair that rolled from her head. He waited for them to do something. Expecting them to kill him he was surprised when they both stood aside.

Adrastos didn't know how to respond to this gesture. He just stood there looking vaguely at them until finally the man spoke, "My name is Leoben. This is Natalie. You will not be harmed from here on out."

It was then the woman's turn to speak, "We want to welcome you to your new life with us."

Adrastos was now more confused than ever. Leoben smiled as he said, "Why don't you take a look outside. Go ahead. It's ok."

Since there seemed to be no other possible options available to him Adrastos began to walk slowly forwards. His eyes were now better able to see in the intense light and as his feet stepped out of the airlock for the first time he saw that he was on a planet. He had indeed been aboard a Cylon ship. The immense arms of the Baseship that sat on the surface of whatever planet this was stretched out overhead into the sky casting a long dark shadows on the ground below. For some reason the Cylons had buried the bottom half of the vessel into the ground so that only the upper half was visible.

Looking around he saw to his amazement rows and rows of wooden huts stretching as far as he could see. Around these huts were people each of whom were going about their business as if oblivious to the holocaust that had befallen the human race. Some looked on at Adrastos as they walked and smiled at him in a warm and welcoming way.

Leoben and Natalie walked up beside Adrastos once more. Natalie tenderly put her right arm over his shoulders to help steady is trembling body that was about to give out at any second.

"Who...Who are these people?" Adrastos asked with some difficulty, his voice being very coarse and dry.

"They are God's children," explained Leoben.

"And so are you," added Natalie.

The last of his energy finally deserted him and thus his body slumped to the floor landing heavily into the dirt. His eyes closed shut and he fell asleep on the ground. The two Cylons called for help from the people around them. Very delicately they carried the Marine Lieutenant into one of the huts and allowed him to sleep on a bed uninterrupted for as long as he needed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Battlestar Hermes**  
'**The Slum'****  
39 Days since 'The Fall'**

Maria Tyler was nineteen years old from Tauron. She was born into a working class family that knew very little of the twelve worlds outside their own small town in which they lived. Her father was the local postman and every morning he would make his way to the post office to gather the letters and deliver them to the town's people. Her mother worked part time in the local general store while Maria hadn't long started her own job at a florist shop in a nearby town. While on her way to work she would drop off her eleven year old brother at school and pick him up again on her way home.

It was a quaint life but an unimportant one. So why then had she become the focus of attention for the bulky man who had come to see her that morning as she lay on her bunk that she shared with her little brother in 'The Slum'? Their whole world had now been reduced to this one small space just over two meters long and almost a meter high and wide. Except when the civilians went to the Marines distributing food near the entrance there was little to do all day except sit in the squalor of these bunks that were now their home.

Maria had survived the destruction of the colonies purely by chance. When the bombs started falling on Tauron she was walking home from work after picking up her younger brother from school. A rescue Raptor found her at the scene of a car accident along the road she was walking and the crew assumed they were survivors of it. The two of them were bundled aboard the Raptor and whisked off to an awaiting ship in orbit that was trying to evacuate as many people as possible before Cylon forces completely overran the colonies. That ship was the Simonides; one of the three surviving vessels of the tragedy that befell her civilian fleet that included the Scylla the day they were discovered by the Battlestar Pegasus.

Maria had followed the bulky man she knew only as Raul through the cramped, dark and stuffy corridors down to the second level. It was always difficult to move around in 'The Slum'. People often lined the corridors as they tried to satisfy the restlessness that came with this life. There were also people sleeping on the floors outside the bunk rooms either by choice, some family members willing to free up space for their loved ones, or were forced out by stronger individuals who resented the weaker members for taking up space. The Marine detachment aboard Hermes were supposed to be policing 'The Slum' but they couldn't be everywhere at once so naturally life was reduced to that old notion of survival of the fittest.

Maria continued to follow Raul down the stairway to the second level. On their way they passed an old woman crying over the beaten body of her twenty year old son. He had been mugged for their food by a nearby gang who quickly left upon hearing that Raul was nearby. Raul didn't even flinch at the sight of the blood shot eyes of the wailing woman. In truth neither did Maria. It's amazing what you can become accustomed too when the situation arises.

Finally they arrived at their destination. It was another bunk room located in a surprisingly empty part of second level. The door to the bunk room was closed and another man sat on a chair just outside. He was quite well built like Raul and had a distinctly Caprican appearance; milky white skin, blonde hair and a muscular physique that in any other circumstances would have given him an Adonis-like profile. Beside the chair was a pipe that had been torn from a damaged conduit. There were dark red stains lining the jagged edges and it didn't take long for Maria to realize that it was blood.

"Ooooh, is that her?" asked the man on the chair as he saw Raul and Maria approach. He got up and walked towards them. Raul stopped and stood aside to allow the other man to inspect her. "Very nice," he said as he looked up and down her body, making her feel like she was an item of jewellery in a shop window. The blond haired man reached up with his right hand and began to stroke her hair. Maria cringed and was fighting her terror stricken desire to run because she knew that things would probably be worse for her if she did.

"Hey!" shot Raul hitting the blonde man's hands away from her hair. "Hands off!"

"Ok-ok," chanted the blonde man who recoiled away and returned to his seat. "Go in, he's waiting for you."

Raul opened the hatch and lead Maria inside. She found herself in another bunk room laid out like the hundreds of others in 'The Slum'. This one was very different however. It was clean and almost empty except for one man who sat on the bunk immediately adjacent to the hatch. Beside him on the bunk was a small bowl of water and with it he was doing something she had rarely seen anyone do in 'The Slum' for a long time; he was washing his face. Nobody wasted water like that but he clearly did.

He looked up at her after wiping his face dry on a small green towel. He was in his early forties with short dark hair, a clean shaven face and a strong lower jaw. He had big bright blue eyes that fixed squarely on Maria who jumped as she heard the hatch behind her shut and Raul turning the handle to lock it into place.

"So," he said. "You are Maria Tyler?" Maria was too frightened to answer. She tried to form the words but it didn't work. "Hmm?" Again she could not answer. He stood up and walked towards her slowly until he was so close she could feel his warm breath grazing the dirt stained skin of her face. "What's the matter? Don't you speak?" he asked in a jokingly cruel sort of way. "Are you scared?" She gathered up the strength to nod her head once. "Then you know who I am?" Again she nodded. Even though she had never seen him before she knew who he was - everyone in 'The Slum' knew who he was. He was Armand Lee and he was formerly of the Basileus Crime Syndicate, one of the most prolific criminal organizations spanning the twelve colonies. Having survived the destruction of the colonies Armand was now using all he knew about the criminal world to bring terror to the residents of 'The Slum' in order to insure his own relatively comfortable survival.

The desire for power survives even the holocaust of mankind.

Armand raised his left hand up and began to caress her face. She could feel him studying her youthful features as his hand moved towards her ear and she felt it become wedged between his thumb and his index finger. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she trembled with fear and she was fighting the urge to cry although she didn't know why. This was a level of fear she had never experienced before. It paralyzed her on the spot making her think that anything she did would be unfortunate for her.

"I can see why he wants you," he uttered almost in a whisper. He then smiled before adding, "Look at you, poor thing, you're all dirty. Raul; fetch me the water and some soap."

Raul acknowledged the command. Standing there like a statue she endured having her face cleaned in a manner that felt quite grotesque and made her want to vomit.

"There, that's better," he said devilishly looking at her. With the dirt gone from her darkened Tauron skin her face had the youngness brought back to it something she suspected was the aim of this little act. She felt like she should be grateful if only to appease him but he didn't seem to mind that she stayed silent. "I need you," he explained delicately. "You have something I need. Do you know what it is?"

The way he asked the question lead her to believe that now was the time he expected her to speak. She reached inside for just a little bit of courage to force her vocal chords to simply mumble, "No."

"I think you do," he said as he stood back and looked at her all over. Her worst fears had now revealed themselves to her as being true. The terrible thoughts of being violated or murdered sprang into her mind but her biggest concern was for her little brother. What would happen to him if she never left this room alive? "There's a man who has something I need. He will be along shortly. He has taken a liking to you and it would be nice if you returned his…_affection_ for just few minutes. That's all. After that you can go and you can take whatever you want with you as a thank you from me. Water. Cleaner clothes. Perhaps some chocolate for your little brother? Hmm? He's on his own right now isn't he?" Mariah knew exactly what those words meant. If she didn't cooperate then they would take it out on her brother. "'The Slum' is a dangerous place for little ones. Why don't I have one of my friends look after him for you while you're here? See to it would you, Raul?"

"Sure," said Raul who then turned to start walking towards the hatch.

"I promise that I will look after you and your brother if you just do this little favor for me. Ok?"

Maria's head just lowered in submissive acknowledgment. She had silently agreed. As Raul opened the hatch Armand looked up to find a Marine in his black battledress standing outside with his rifle slung over his shoulder. If Maria thought help was here she was sadly mistaken. The Marine stepped inside passed Raul who simply nodded to him before stepping outside and closing the hatch on Armand, Mariah and the Marine.

"Ah," said Armand with delight at the sight of the Marine. Maria looked up and recognized the Marine from the food distribution points. He had talked to her many times in the past and would try to flirt with her everytime. She politely rebuffed his advances however due to a mix of fear and apprehension. There was still a lot of distrust of the military over what happened aboard the Scylla. The crew of the Battlestar Hermes wasn't seen as saviors by everyone even a month later. "Here he is. Private Abbott, so good of you to join us. I believe you know Maria."

Abbott seemed breathless with excitement at the sight of her. He had longed for this for a few weeks now but it had only been recently that he had made a deal with Armand to get what he wanted. What he wanted was Maria.

After seeing that it was indeed her, he turned to Armand and said, "I got it for you."

"Good!" said Armand as he watched the Marine quickly reach down and started pulling the bottoms of his trousers up from his right ankle. Taped to his right leg was a small 9mm pistol. It was not a battle pistol that included the explosive round chamber under the muzzle but a security pistol used for basic second line guard duties. Armand had insisted on this type of weapon since it was easier to conceal. Abbott groaned as the adhesive tape ripped from his flesh. He then handed the gun to Armand.

Armand removed the tape around the weapon and began to inspect that it was in working order. He checked the loaded magazine and pulled the slip back to insure the chamber was not obstructed. The last thing he wanted was to be duped by the Marine given him a broken gun.

"What about the two magazines we agreed to?" asked Armand.

"I had some trouble getting them out. I'll have to give them to you another time," explained Abbott.

"That wasn't the deal," said Armand. "A gun and three clips is what we agreed upon. I have only a gun and one clip."

"Come on, give me a break," pleaded Abbott. "Do you know how hard it was for me to conceal the fact that just one gun is missing? I will get you the other magazines soon, ok."

"For your sake I hope so," said Armand threateningly. "I don't think I need to explain what would happen if Lieutenant Callisto ever found about our agreement."

"You will have them as soon as I can get them," repeated Abbott firmly.

Armand knew the man was afraid. He dealt with fear on a daily basis before and after the fall of the colonies. That fear was his insurance and therefore he nodded towards Maria signaling that Abbott could now collect on his part of the deal.

Without so much as a word to her Abbott took Maria by the hand and lead her over to the bunk on the left of the one Armand had been sitting on when she came in. He placed down his rifle and removed his helmet before effectively pushing her onto the bunk before closing the curtains.

Armand continued to examine the weapon as faint sobs emanated from behind the curtain. Armand had required a firearm for quite some time but he knew he couldn't just go out and start shooting anyone who got in his way because that would attract further military attention. But just the knowledge of him having a gun would be enough to subdue any opposition that might surface. His group was after all only five men in total amongst almost three thousand people but the fear and reputation they had established kept dissent to a minimum. He knew that it would only last for so long unless he kept that level of fear up.

Now he had the tool with which to do it.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Wardroom**

Artimus Bowman stood in front of the large oak table that dominated the centre of the wardroom as his three closest officers; Colonel Caleb Dytto, Captain Chloe Burmeister and Major Alex 'Griffon' Adonia, put forward their proposal for the plan to help discover how the Cylons were tracking the Battlestar. Sitting high above the floor on the far wall was a rather grand painting of the God Hermes stretching forth his hand to deliver his message to Zeus in Olympus. It was a painting that no one who entered the room could fail to notice as it served to remind all just which of the Lords of Kobol served as the patron to the Battlestar.

It was Captain Burmeister who led the briefing. She had formulated most of the finer details of the plan herself as she always did. She was a masterful tactician whom Bowman cherished but the atmosphere between her and Dytto remained frosty. Bowman had hoped that working together like this might have thawed their feelings but he was clearly mistaken.

"As we begin preparations for our next jump the Raptor will be launched with orders to proceed to our original aim point," explained Burmeister.

"The Raptor mission isn't on any assigned schedule in order to insure that no agent onboard gets wind of it," added 'Griffon' to which Bowman nodded in agreement.

"Who will fly the Raptor?" asked Bowman.

"I was thinking 'Stinger'," said 'Griffon'. "I will have to assign him a new ECO since 'Walleye' is still recovering from his injuries. I was considering giving 'Aurora' a shot."

"That rook!" gasped Dytto. "She's barely had the uniform on for five minutes. This is an important op that we can't afford to frak up."

"With all due respect, Colonel," interjected 'Griffon'. "I've watched her training and while she might be a little rough around the edges when it comes to military protocol she works that ECMO station like she was born in a Raptor. I think she's as ready as she is going to be."

"But even so," continued Dytto, "there are more experienced people."

"There will always be more experienced people, sir. So does that mean we should keep her in the crew room just training in case one day we might use her? The truth is we could certainly use another ECMO. We've lost a lot of good crews over the past month and I don't think we can expect new replacements anytime soon."

It was at this point that Bowman stepped in and said firmly, "If 'Griffon' wants to clear her to fly then she can fly." His words brought an end to the debate. Melissa 'Aurora' Saunders was going to fly the mission.

With that detail out of the way Burmeister continued, "Due to the distance involved the Raptor will have to make three jumps to reach the new coordinates. They will then proceed on the same sublight course that is programmed into our navigation system as we intended to follow originally. Meanwhile Hermes will jump to a new set of coordinates that I have calculated manually. I will input the new coordinates as our FTL is spooling in order to limit the risk of any agents on board discovering what we are doing. Now, theoretically if a Cylon agent has penetrated Hermes then they no doubt have somehow gained access to our navigational systems and are probably feeding the information to their forces during the attacks. That means that the Cylons will go after the Raptor and we will know we have an agent onboard."

"But if they come after us then we know they're tracking Hermes itself," said Bowman.

"I don't know which is more preferable," uttered Dytto.

"At least we can start making plans to tackle the problem," said 'Griffon' optimistically.

"Start making plans!" quoted Dytto in a way that implied that 'Griffon' was suggesting something like moving a mountain. "Let's just suppose for a minute we do have a Cylon agent onboard. How the frak do we go about finding it?"

"I have another question," said Burmeister. "How do we know it is one of these human-looking ones? It could be some kind of transponder placed onboard during a firefight."

As he listened to the theories that were starting to be put forward Bowman began to realize that paranoia was setting in amongst his three most trusted officers. Despite their professionalism and logic they were giving in to one of their most basic of emotions; fear. He couldn't blame them. Truth be told he was scared himself by the thought that someone aboard his ship was a Cylon but as the Commander he could not let himself be driven by his fears. There were too many lives counting him.

"Let's just concentrate on the mission at hand for the time being," ordered Bowman. "We will worry about our next move when the time comes and we know what we are dealing with. In the meantime we need to figure out where we are jumping to in the long term? More to the point we need somewhere we can make repairs to our systems especially the FTL otherwise it wont matter if we have a Cylon on board or not."

"Captain Burmeister has a suggestion," said Dytto as if she weren't even in the room.

"Let's hear it, Captain," said Bowman to Burmeister.

Burmeister looked at Dytto with mild annoyance with him before turning back to Bowman and explain, "Big Red!"

'Big Red' was the unofficial name given to a stellar dust cloud located approximately seventeen jumps from the twelve colonies and five jumps from their current location. It was never given a proper name although the Caprica Institute of Stellar Cartography gave it an index number of SC-287. The cloud itself was small by galactic standards being only five hundred and eighty square light years in volume. It encompassed nine stars in total whose light when refracted through the dense dust gave it the reddish colour of its namesake.

"Makes sense," interjected 'Griffon'. "The dust would limit DRADIS down to short range only. It would make finding Hermes a nightmare for the Cylons."

"Colonel Dytto is of a different opinion however," said Burmeister. Both Bowman and 'Griffon' felt like they were caught in a slugging match between Burmeister and Dytto. Given the more hospitable relationship he now enjoyed with Dytto, Bowman was disappointed that his XO was now venting on someone who used to be his closest friend on Hermes.

Feeling the spotlight on him Dytto felt compelled to explain, "I just feel it's too obvious a place to hide. Even if we throw the toasters off our scent they are going to assume that that's where we are heading and send as many of their ships and Raiders in there to go looking for us as they can."

"Well, Colonel," said Bowman. "I call this briefing opinion to suggestions. What's yours?"

"I suggest we continue on out into deep space. We get far enough away from the colonies to avoid the Cylon patrols and their 'Bloodsucker' teams and we position ourselves between star systems where there's no obvious place to look for us."

"You mean set up camp in the middle of the desert rather than the oasis?" summed up Bowman who felt the metaphor to be appropriate. Bowman clicked his bottom jaw as he assessed both options. After a few seconds he declared, "Our first priority is repairing the damage to the FTL drive. Everytime we use it now we are damaging it further and as such making it that much harder to repair. On that basis alone I'm opting to follow Captain Burmeister's suggestion due to the closer proximity of the dust cloud."

Dytto seemed to wince at Bowman with frustration at having both his suggestions disregarded. Nevertheless he decided to honor his agreement with the Commander of Hermes and keep his mouth shut in front of the others. In short he was saving it for another time and place.

"How much longer until we can jump?" asked Bowman.

"A little under an hour," answered Burmeister. "Engineering is still a bit cautious about every single jump we make from here on out. They're afraid that the next time the FTL spool fouls they won't be able to repair it and then its game over."

"That FTL system is all that's keeping us alive at the moment," said Bowman. "The truth is we've been lucky so far but that won't hold. We need to buy time to fix it properly and keep it operational. And in order to do that we have to throw off the Cylon pursuit. Begin preparations for the operation!"

"Aye sir!" replied the three of them as Bowman turned to leave.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Sickbay**

Captain Aaron 'Stinger' Bolenko spent much of his free time over the past few days in sickbay. He would sit beside the bed occupied by 'Walleye', his former Electronic Countermeasures Officer, sometimes for hours just staring at his friend and comrade who lay there silently with his badly burned upper body. Most his face was a mess of scolds and boils from where the console he was working at exploded when their Raptor was hit six days earlier. Fortunately for 'Stinger' the Raider who had attacked them during the battle above Scorpia didn't have a clear shot. They were simply unlucky enough to catch a stray round from a Raider who was banking hard trying to escape from the gun sight of one of the Hermes Vipers.

"Back again I see," croaked a voice from behind him. 'Stinger' knew whose voice it was having become accustomed to hearing it since 'Walleye' was wounded. It was the voice of Dr James Deveroux, the current Chief Medical Officer aboard the Battlestar. Deveroux had been one of those rescued from aboard the Scylla. He had been traveling alone and nobody knew very much about him. The truth was that the man the Hermes crew had come to trust with their medical needs was in fact a Cylon. He was not one of the medically inclined 'Simons' however but rather he was a member of the Number One model sometimes referred to generically as John Cavil.

It was not Deveroux's choice to become the ship's doctor but rather he assumed the role in order to allow himself to gain the trust of Bowman and his people. During a Cylon attack in the days following his 'rescue' from the stripped Scylla he received a download that afforded him the necessary skills he would require. So far he had achieved his goal of blending into the ship's company but the Cylon detested and loathed what he had to do in order to maintain his deception. It was bad enough being stuck on a ship filled with human beings whom he loathed and detested but worse still he spent everyday with the sick and injured. He had to touch disease ridden bodies and talk compassionately to his patients. He seemed to spend much of his time fighting the urge to kill himself in order to release his consciousness from this body and return to his own kind but the priority of the mission kept him going. He knew that if he could stomach a few months of this then the rewards would be a universe free of the filth that is humanity.

Deveroux pulled up a chair and sat next to 'Stinger' who couldn't help but stare at the tubes sticking out of his friends throat to help him breath and keep him fed and hydrated while he remained in a coma. 'Stinger' simply acknowledged Deveroux's presence who sat with his long white jacket draped over his knees.

"It's not a pretty sight is it?" asked Deveroux looking at 'Walleye'. "The human body is so frakking frail that in the right place a pin can break the skin and kill you." He then turned to 'Stinger' and said, "It's not fair is it? To be trapped in this state of existence?"

"I-I guess not," uttered 'Stinger' who really didn't feel like talking about it. "How's he doing today? Any change?"

"Nope," replied Deveroux. "I've done all I can. Now it's upto him."

"It should have been me," mumbled 'Stinger' staring into his hands that sat clasped together between his legs.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said it should have been me! I was leading the mission to destroy the Baseships orbiting Scorpia. I was the CAG. Why is it that out of the six of us I was the only one to come back unscathed?"

"Well maybe the Gods have more work for you to do?" suggested Deveroux who seemed to use that one sentence more and more in order to comfort weeping crewmembers in an hour of need. It was such a useful one to use since it offered no real explanation but instead played on the idea that some divine force was guiding their lives and that everything happens for a reason. For Deveroux the notion of 'faith' was yet more evidence of the weaknesses and impurity of humanity having been corrupted by such flawed thinking. He put the creation of the first Cylons by mankind as humanity's efforts to create a pure race and then jealous of the Cylon purity they enslaved their creation until eventually his forefathers rose up against their tyranny and oppression.

It was a noble sentiment he whole heartedly believed. But in the Cylon effort for vengeance they became more human they would ever want to admit. Not just in appearance but in almost every way.

"I don't believe in the Gods anymore," said 'Stinger'.

"Oh?"

"If there are Gods then why did they let this happen? Not just 'Walleye' I mean everything. The Cylons. The bombing of the colonies. Just...everything. Frak the Gods. Every last one of them!"

Deveroux sighed loudly in frustration. "I am so sick of hearing that. Why did _this_ happen? Why did _that _happen? Why did the Gods let the Cylons blow up our homes and murder our families. I'm sick of it all. Do you want to know the truth about this...this holocaust, Captain?"

'Stinger' seemed almost afraid to refuse. The Doctor's rant had been so sudden and unexpected that he was quite taken aback by it as he continued to listen to what he had to say on the topic.

"The truth is that this entire mess is one colossal industrial accident. It's not the will of the Gods that we are to be punished. We are being punished for frakking up the design on a few machines that we tried to play God with. Sometimes what we create doesn't go how we intended it to and the only people who have to answer for it is _us_. We created this mess and it was upto us to rectify it. We failed to solve the problem and that's why we're here now having this conversation. The Gods; they only help those who help themselves. Now you can believe that to be a cop out if you want. Quite frankly I don't care. Just watch who it is you point your finger of blame at without having first looked in the mirror."

Deveroux stood up and left 'Stinger' to think about what he had said. Although he didn't quite know why he suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over him from having renounced his faith even though he still felt the same way. The events of the past month had left him a confused and frightened individual spiritually and there seemed to be nothing anyone could do or say that could clear the path for him.

Like everyone else aboard the Battlestar his life now consisted almost entirely of trying to live through another day.

Suddenly the ship's loudspeaker bleeped into life and Petty Officer Durand's voice announced, "Captain Bolenko and Lieutenant Saunders please report to the CAG's office on the double."

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Port Hangar Deck**

Raptor Two-One-Niner sat in its parking area having been readied for its next mission. After being briefed by 'Griffon' on their mission 'Stinger' and 'Aurora' walked upto the awaiting little ship in order to begin their pre-flight inspection. As the pilot it was 'Stinger's job to check the airworthiness of the hull and insure that every access panel was closed before flight. Since he would be signing off on the spacecraft anything that happened once it left Chief Imlay's Hangar Deck would be his responsibility. This left 'Aurora' to begin her system checklist.

As she clambered up the port wing of the Raptor she couldn't help but think that the little ship resembled an odd shaped Honey Bee. It was quite an ungainly looking craft that didn't look like it could fly and yet 'Aurora' saw that there was some beauty to it. Maybe it was the allure of her new life in the military and the excitement of her first mission that had left her with a favorable impression of the otherwise odd looking vessel.

She stepped inside the main cabin and took her place at the ECM station just behind the pilot. The interior of a Raptor is surprisingly spacious and can easily hold upto eight people including the standard two crewmembers. As she strapped herself into her seat she looked at the vast array of dials and screens infront of her with a mix of excitement and dread. She had trained for this for over half a month a now. Every single day she had spent learning how to use the mind boggling array of sensors at her disposal. When she wasn't doing that she was learning how to utilize the electronic warfare package. Hours and hours of trying to jam imaginary Cylon DRADIS scans as well as counter the jamming of her own systems.

As she sat there going through her checklists for her first actual mission she began to realize that she had spent most of her time in the training room and had only logged seventeen hours actually in a Raptor and then she was always supervised. The enormity of the task that lay before her suddenly weighed down on her shoulders making her feel as though events were beginning to crush her as they spiraled out of her control. Even though their rules of engagement were to turn tail and run she feared that at a critical point she would hit a wrong button or worse just panic and freeze. The truth was she wouldn't know until she was actually confronted with that situation.

"Everything ready in here?" asked 'Stinger' dryly as he stepped inside and made his way to the pilot's seat near the bulbous front canopy.

"Uh...yea. All systems are green. We are go for flight."

"Alright then, I'm beginning engine start up."

Before 'Stinger' could go through the start up process 'Griffon' appeared in the hatchway.

"I just wanted to wish you guys good luck and good hunting," he said to them both. "Remember, Actual doesn't want you to take any chances on this one. Your priority is to confirm that the Cylons show up where we are expecting them to and then meet up with Hermes at the rendezvous point. Nothing fancy."

"Yes sir!" said 'Stinger' sternly. 'Aurora' quickly repeated the sentiment but in a much less confident tone.

"Don't worry 'Aurora'," said 'Griffon' noting the look of apprehension on her face. "You'll do fine. 'Stinger' is the best Raptor pilot on Hermes so you're in good hands. Just remember your training and you will get through this. Alright, Gods speed you."

'Griffon' stepped down from the Raptor's wing as 'Stinger' closed the hatch from the cockpit. As it slammed shut 'Aurora' felt distinctly claustrophobic which was made worse by the gentle vibrations from the main engines as they began to power up. Since she had become so familiar with just looking at her console while in the training room, Hermes lacked actual simulators; she decided to just keep her eyes forward at the displays and try to picture this as just another training mission.

It only helped a little.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre **

"Sir! Hangar Deck reports an unscheduled Raptor requesting permission to launch."

Bowman stood at the Operations Desk as Petty Officer Durand relayed the message he had just received. He quickly checked the time with the small digital clock in the far corner of the DRADIS screen hanging from the ceiling of the CIC. The Raptor mission was starting precisely on schedule. There was five minutes remaining before they executed the next jump.

Who is piloting the Raptor?" asked Bowman looking for confirmation it was the mission he had ordered.

"'Stinger' and 'Aurora', sir," replied Durand.

"Very well, grant them permission to launch," instructed Bowman who then walked over to Burmeister manning the Tactical Station. "Please proceed, Captain."

"Aye, sir," said Burmeister who immediately accessed the navigation computer from her console. She selected the screen displaying coordinates for the next jump before going into her right trouser pocket to produce a small piece of paper that had been folded up several times. She opened it up to reveal a new series of coordinates. She began replacing the coordinates in the navigational computer with the ones she had formulated herself as the clock counting down to the jump passed two minutes remaining.

"Raptor is away!" said Durand for Bowman's benefit. "All decks reporting ready for jump."

"Very good, Mr Durand," acknowledged Bowman who had now returned to the Operations Desk where Dytto stood watching the Raptor leaving on the DRADIS screen. "Put me through to the Raptor!" Bowman lifted up the telephone handset from the corner of the Operations Desk and held it to the side of his head as Durand patched him through to the Raptor. "This is Hermes-Actual, you are cleared to proceed."

"Roger that, Actual," replied 'Stinger'.

Bowman and Dytto watched on the DRADIS screen as the small dot representing the Raptor flashed twice before disappearing. The rest of the CIC had watched the events play out before them with confusion. They were unaware of any change in orders and yet they had just witnessed the launch of an unscheduled Raptor and Burmeister changing their jump coordinates. They all trusted Bowman and even Dytto so they knew that there was a good reason why they weren't told what was going on. It was still an unsettling feeling for most of them however.

The clock ticked away its last few seconds. The FTL drive spooled up and upon Bowman's order the Hermes disappeared in a blinding flash through an artificially created spatial distortion that bent space and time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lt. Nester Adrastos  
Location: Unknown**

Nester Adrastos lay sleeping on a bed in the corner of the room as a young woman, Megan Jordan, walked in to check on him. His black battle fatigues had been removed while he was asleep and he lay there with only a blanket to cover him from the waist down. She walked over to his bedside and checked that the intravenous tube reaching into the back of his right hand was still in place giving him the vital fluids he needed as he rested. She had been checking on him every half hour for over six hours now and his body barely seemed to have moved at all. Megan reasoned that he must have been physically and emotionally exhausted from his time being interrogated aboard the Baseship to such an extent that he lacked the energy to make even the tiniest of movements whilst asleep.

She pulled up a chair and placed it beside his bed before sitting on it. She had tried to spend as much time in here with him as she could in order to try and be there when he wakes up. He obviously had no idea where he was now or how he got there. All that he did know was that the last few days in captivity had been brutal for him. It was this fact that had caused such hostility between the Cylon Number Six known as Natalie Faust and the Number Five who had conducted the interrogation. Speaking to Natalie earlier, Megan had learned that she had wanted Nester sooner knowing full well what the Number Fives subjected their prisoners to. She had been overruled by the other models who wanted a 'thorough debriefing' of the Marine Lieutenant of the Battlestar Hermes before he was released into her custody.

Sitting beside him she watched his face as he slept. It was tired looking with over a weeks worth of brisk facial hair lining his jaw and neck giving him a much older appearance. Even under this fatigued face she could make out that he was quite handsome. She tried to imagine what type of man he would prove to be when he woke up. Natalie and one of the Leobens had explained a little bit about him from his personnel file but that was too much of a sterile way of learning about someone. Occasionally his closed eyes would flicker and she would then glance down in anticipation of him opening them as he awoke. Each time she was disappointed.

Feeling a little redundant as she waited for him to wake up she saw that the battle fatigues that had been removed from him where still sitting in a bundle on the floor in the middle of the room. Clean civilian clothes had been prepared for him and so, deciding that he would not need them anymore, she stood up from the chair and proceeded to gather them up. Once the battle fatigues were bundled up into her arms she proceeded to take them outside the wooden cabin to throw them in the trash bin that lay across the makeshift street formed by the rows of little buildings that dotted the landscape underneath the outstretched arms of the semi-buried Baseship.

* * *

**Raptor Two-One-Niner**

The Raptor emerged from its jump in a sudden and brilliant flash. Hermes could have made the journey in a single jump however the shorter ranged FTL system fitted to the Colonial Raptor meant that it had taken three jumps for 'Stinger' and 'Aurora' to make it to the original coordinates Hermes was supposed to have jumped to. The Battlestar was now two dozen light years away at a new set of coordinates waiting for the Raptor to return to its mothership.

"Jump completed," said 'Aurora' whose hands were still trembling nervously as she worked the electronic warfare systems in the aft compartment.

"This is it then," said 'Stinger'. "This is where Hermes would have been. Nothing to do now except cruise along at sublight for sixteen hours waiting to see if the Toasters to show up."

'Aurora' looked up towards the front cockpit where 'Stinger' sat. She was glad he couldn't see her. It made her feel a little better that he couldn't see just how frightened she was. She had gone on the occasional mission before today. She had gone to the Hellenic Traveler where she helped unload a crate that would eventually reveal itself to contain a dead woman's body. The Cylons showed up on that mission and the memory of being fired at burned deep in her mind. After that she took part in a reconnaissance mission with 'Stinger' and 'Magma' where they found wreckage from a Battlestar. The difference between now and then was that back then she was just there to learn the ropes. Now, she was the one who was the ECMO and the success or failure of the mission depended on her ability to work her station quite possibly under enemy fire. In training she had worked the station like she was born in a Raptor but now that she was doing it for real with no one to watch over her she found she was making mistakes as her nerves began to get the better of her. Her mind raced with all the things she knew she had to remember but the more she tried to stay on top of everything the more she seemed to forget.

"Beginning passive scans," she reported to 'Stinger' after taking a deep breath to help clear the apprehension from her voice.

"Negative," said 'Stinger'. "Go active on everything."

"What?" asked 'Aurora' whose voice was now betraying her nerves. This seemed to go against what she had learned in training. Passive scans worked by detecting the DRADIS or Infra-red emissions from a Cylon ship. It was not a guaranteed method of detection but it reduced the risk of the Raptor being detected from its own tell-tale signals emitted from its own DRADIS.

"Our mission is to find out how the Cylons are tracking Hermes. If Commander Bowman is right then they will know we are here anyway and I don't want anyone sneaking up on us. As soon as they appear I want to know about it so we can hit the flash button." The 'flash button' was the name some Raptor pilots gave to the controls for the Faster-Than-Light drive.

"O-Ok," she replied turning back to face her station in order to begin her active scans. As the DRADIS beam swept out over several hundred kilometers she tried to mentally prepare herself for the next sixteen hours. Of course if the Cylons showed up as they were expecting them too then they would rendezvous with Hermes earlier than that. As she completed her first scans that revealed nothing but empty space around them she began to wonder which she preferred; being on edge for sixteen hours or a Cylon attack.

* * *

Having disposed of Nester's old battle fatigues Megan walked back across the dusty street to the cabin where the Marine lay asleep. It was a small cabin intended specifically for the purpose of allowing new arrivals at the camp to recuperate in peace. The cabin had only one room that was accessed immediately upon walking through the front door. She reached up and pushed the door aside before walking up the small set of steps leading to the entrance, her eyes looking down to see where she was placing her feet. Once inside she looked up.

Nester Adrastos was gone! His IV tube lay a strewn across the bed where a trickle of blood indicated that it had been removed from his hand quite forcibly.

Before she could react she felt someone pull on her right arm violently dragging her away from the open door. Nester had awoken and had hidden beside the entrance waiting for someone to walk in. Before she could scream for help his right hand grasped firmly onto her mouth preventing her from making a sound while at the same time restraining her against his chest while he closed the door with his left hand. Firmly in his clutches she trembled with fear. Her heart was racing and her stomach felt like it was on the wildest rollercoaster imaginable.

"Listen carefully," he whispered into her ear. "I don't want to hurt you but I will if you make me. I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth now but if you try to scream I will break your frakking neck! Ok?"

She nodded as a solitary tear ran down her face. Slowly he began to lift his hand away from her lips but he kept it so that he could quickly replace it if he had to. Once he was sure she wasn't going to scream he felt confident enough to ask her a few questions.

"Are you a Cylon?" he asked.

"No," she sobbed still shaking from having been jumped from behind.

"But there are Cylons here?"

"Yes."

"What is this? Some kind of prisoner of war camp?" She hesitated to answer him. "Tell me!"

"We're not prisoners here," she explained, the fear still reverberating in her voice.

"Then what is going on?" he asked. Before he could get an answer the door opened once more and a tall woman with dark blonde hair walked in. It was Natalie Faust. A Cylon Number Six.

"Megan?" called out Faust as she walked inside. "Are you in here-"

Nester pulled Megan back over to the far wall to take up a more defensive posture with his hostage. He knew for certain that this woman was a Cylon having seen her picture from the surveillance footage retrieved from the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis and he wasn't taking any chances with her. He tightened his right hand around Megan's throat in a manner that threatened he would harm her if Natalie came any closer. He couldn't be sure that the Cylon woman would care one way or the other if he harmed Megan but it was the only card he had to play.

Natalie looked genuinely surprised and concerned for the woman the Marine Lieutenant was holding hostage. She held up her hands submissively as she stood in the doorway seemingly afraid to make any move towards him for fear of her friend being harmed. Nester didn't have time to try and understand what exactly was happening although his mind was racing trying to make some sense of all that he was seeing. What he had failed to realize however was that as Natalie stood in the doorway a man outside had seen what was going on and had gone running for help.

"Megan, are you ok?" asked Natalie quite calmly.

"Yea," Megan replied in an almost panic stricken breathlessness.

"She's fine!" roared Nester as threateningly as he could. He knew he had to make Natalie believe that he would harm her if provoked otherwise she would see right through him and this would weaken his position. "She'll be fine as long as you do as I say."

"Alright Lieutenant," said Natalie calmly. "What is it you want?"

"First, I want some answers," he declared. "Where am I?"

"You are on Virgon," explained Natalie. "The Northern Frontier to be exact. Not far from where you used to live actually, according to your file that is."

"What is this place? What is its purpose?"

"That would take a while to explain," said Natalie slightly hesitantly. "Why don't you let Megan go and keep me as your hostage? Then I will gladly explain everything to you. If-"

Natalie found herself cut off as the sound of splashing mud and mechanical body parts in motion suddenly began to close in on their location. At exactly the same time both Nester and Natalie saw through the windows two groups of three Cylon Centurions converging on the small cabin. Natalie immediately sprung into action knowing full well that their presence might provoke Nester to do something rash.

"Stop!" she bellowed at the rapidly approaching soldiers. "Stop! Stand down!"

The lanky looking metal warriors came to a sudden halt in the mud just a few yards from the cabin. Their talons were still retracted with their machine guns positioned forward ready for combat as they assessed the situation. Part of their programming was to ascertain whether or not Natalie had been compromised. A fail safe protocol was installed in their brains that would allow them to refuse an order from a Humanoid Cylon if the order was made under duress. Natalie repeated her order to stand down and upon the command their guns retracted back into their arms before their 'hands' reappeared and they began to walk away. Natalie seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she saw the Centurions move off from their position and back to their patrol routes. She then turned back to Nester and Megan.

"Listen to me carefully, Lieutenant," pleaded Natalie. "I could have ordered those Centurions to shoot you where you stand. They would have come through the door and killed you before you could even begin to add pressure to Megan's neck. But I didn't. I'm gambling that you're not a heartless killer. That you won't hurt my friend without provocation so I am asking you to consider your situation for a moment. The fact of the matter is that you're in an enemy stronghold with no weapons or support. We hold all the cards here but I'm sure I don't need to explain that to you. You're military training is already helping you weigh up your quite limited options and every one of them is wrought with difficulty. Put simply if you don't cooperate with us then you are dead. Now, let Megan go and I swear to you that I will stay here and be your hostage. I will tell you everything you want to know."

As Nester thought about her proposal a voice suddenly wailed from outside the cabin, "Megan!" Natalie looked back out through the door as a man came running up to the entrance to the cabin. Nester couldn't quite see him but it was clear from his voice that he was terrified at the fact that Megan was being held hostage. "Natalie! Is..."

"She's fine, Adrian," said Natalie who was now trying desperately to keep the situation calm. "She's right here."

"Thank God!" sighed the man.

Natalie turned back to Nester before making her way from the door over towards the bed. She sat on it signaling her intent to stay with him if he agreed to release his hostage. Nester wasn't sure what he was going to do. One thing he was certain of however was that the Cylon calling herself Natalie was right. They did hold all the cards and that left little room for him to maneuver therefore he reasoned he had no choice but to let his hostage go. Free from his grasp Megan went running over to Natalie who comforted the frightened young woman.

"It's ok," said Natalie softy. "Go outside and wait for me with Adrian."

Megan nodded before turning around to meet the man who was still standing near the doorway waiting for her. Seeing that she had been released the man stepped inside and met Megan half way across the room. They quickly embraced and as the man rested his head on her right shoulder Nester quickly identified who he was. He was another one of the Humanoid Cylon models, specifically one of the models he had come to know as Aaron Doral. This was the same model that had tortured him for over five days aboard the Baseship. This Doral's hair was different to the other members of his model that Nester had encountered since his capture. His hair was still short but bushier and lighter in appearance but the single most distinctive aspect of this Cylon was his trimmed goatee beard looped around his mouth.

Nester looked on with both surprise and disgust. Megan claimed to be human but he was starting to suspect this was a lie. How could a human be so emotionally attached to a machine? They may look human but they are still murdering machines responsible for the deaths of billions. While Adrian and Megan seemed determined to just hold one another Natalie made a point to remind them of the seriousness of the situation and encouraged them to leave. With his arm draped over her shoulders Adrian guided Megan outside before closing the door behind them leaving Nester alone with Natalie. Although she was supposed to be his hostage it felt to Nester that things were the other way around.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Morgue**

Bowman didn't know how he had found himself in the morgue. After the operation had begun he found himself feeling quite restless, a rarity these days since he more-often-than-not spent any free time trying to catch up on lost sleep. He had walked down onto the Hangar Deck and talked with Chief Imlay for a while before meeting up with 'Griffon' in the pilot's briefing room. There the Commander and the CAG of the Battlestar Hermes talked about their thoughts and feelings of the operation before they descended into small talk about their own experiences as CAGs before the Cylon attack, Bowman having been CAG of the Valkyrie over six years earlier.

It was after that he found himself almost subconsciously walking towards Sickbay. He walked into the ship's medical centre without so much as a word to any of the staff or patients before making his way into the morgue located at the far end of compartment, one of the largest on the ship.

Having entered the cold room he walked down to the far end towards the only body that remained stored there; the body of the Cylon woman they recovered from the Hellenic Traveler almost a month earlier. In the days following the attacks on the colonies the bodies of those killed aboard Hermes were initially kept here in the hope that they could one day be returned to their respective colonies for a proper burial. It did not take long for Bowman to realize that there would be no going home for him or his people and so it became necessary to dispose of the bodies after a simple ceremony sending them on their way to the afterlife. Cremating the bodies would have expended vital fuel that simply couldn't be spared so the bodies were as respectively possible ejected into space.

As Bowman passed the refrigerated lockers the individual storage lockers he could hear the echoes of those who had died under his command swirl around his head before reaching into his heart. Every death he took personally and yet at some point he had become accustomed to it. That thought disgusted him more than any other.

He opened the locker he knew contained the body and proceeded to pull out the silver shelf on which the body was placed with a white sheet draped over it. He looked down at the curvature of the sheet over the woman's face and noted how it didn't look quite human. The image only served to reinforce the fact that when he pulled the sheet off he would see a human face when in fact it was an artificial lifeform.

He reached down and slowly removed the sheet to reveal her face.

He couldn't believe how real she…IT looked. The woman's face lay blue and motionless with a small bullet hole in her forehead. He let the sheet drop into a bundle just below her neck and stared down at the face of his enemy. He couldn't help but notice the bullet hole and wonder what had happened to this Cylon? The only logical answer he could come up with was that the crew of the Hellenic Traveler discovered what she was but it was too late for them. The truth was he would probably never learn what happened aboard that ship which only left his imagination to come up with a thousand different answers.

"Excuse me," croaked a voice from the entrance to the cold and metallic looking room. Artimus Bowman looked up to find Dr James Deveroux slowly walking towards him, his white coat draped loosely over his torso. "One of my staff had said you were in here. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No thank you Doctor," said Bowman whose eyes returned to the dead Cylon's face coolly indicating that he had little interest in talking with him. From the first day Deveroux had revealed himself to the crew of the Hermes, Bowman had mistrusted him for a reason he just couldn't fathom. There were always people Artimus Bowman mistrusted for no particular reason. He knew it was unfair of him to prejudge people but experience had taught him that he was often proven right to.

"Oh!" said Deveroux as he leaned against the empty adjacent locker with his right arm. "So you just came all the way down here to stare at a dead woman's body? You have quite a hobby there Commander." Bowman didn't respond to the little joke. "May I ask why you are so interested in this woman? She an old friend?"

"Hardly," replied Bowman.

"A few weeks ago you had me perform an autopsy on her even though she had already been onboard for over two and a half weeks. What changed exactly?" Deveroux of course knew the answer but this was a rare opportunity for him to gather intelligence directly from the Commander of the Hermes. Just how much did Bowman know exactly?

"I'm afraid it's a military secret," said Bowman again with a cool tone in his voice.

"A military secret!" repeated Deveroux. "And here's me thinking I had been enlisted. Very well, I can understand that but it would really help me if I know what it was you expected to find."

Bowman looked back up at him. "I think its best you don't know."

"Oh well now I _am _intrigued."

"Don't be! Just forget about it."

"I see," said Deveroux who took a step back to contemplate how he should proceed. Obviously the direct approach wasn't working. He needed to attack from another angle. "You don't like me very much do you?" Before Bowman could answer Deveroux continued, "It's ok. I don't mind, in fact before the colonies were bombed you would have had more than a few people on your side. I've never really been a people person. It comes with being a doctor I suppose. You see so much pain and suffering in others on a day to day basis that you have to remove yourself from it or you just can't do your job. Eventually you start removing yourself from people in general."

Bowman couldn't help but feel just a little guilty but that guilt didn't overshadow his apprehensive and suspicious feelings regarding his Chief Medical Officer. "I am grateful for the work you do, Doctor."

"James, please," said Deveroux who felt he was making progress. Bowman didn't correct himself however.

"Please understand it's not personal," explained Bowman. "Normal day to day operations are intensive enough but since the colonies fell I barely have a second to myself to say nothing of recognizing the outstanding work everyone does."

"I'm sure they know what you think of them," said Deveroux. "I see it in here everyday; the fear in their eyes. The only thing that gets them through is the trust they have in the guy at the top and the determination not to let you down." Bowman didn't know if the words were a gift or a burden but they were reassuring and he was at least thankful to Deveroux for that. "Well, I have my patients to attend to, if you'll excuse me?" Deveroux began to walk away before he suddenly stopped and turned around. "Oh one other thing, I heard that we've altered course. Any specific reason? Or is it another military secret?"

Bowman just shot him a glance that told him all he needed to know.

* * *

Nester Adrastos walked from window to window standing off to one side of each of them as he peered outside for any sign of the Centurions. There wasn't any nor had there been for almost an hour. Instead he could see nothing but rows of wooden buildings forming streets of damp dirt and mud between them having been exposed to some particularly heavy rain over the previous few days. The thick clouds hanging in the sky filtered the late afternoon sunlight into a dark blue colour, the harbinger of more rain to come in the night.

"You know you gave her quite a scare," said Natalie as Nester walked over to the window on the far right of the cabin yet again. "She wasn't going to hurt you. No one here is."

Nester didn't answer. Instead he continued to scan outside with his eyes although he had to admit that he had no idea what he was going to do if the Centurions did come back.

Natalie watched him as he kept checking the perimeter of the building. He still only had his underpants on and this helped her formulate a way of trying to start a conversation with Nester in the hope of resolving this situation.

"There are some clothes that have been prepared for you in the top drawer over there," she said pointing to a small wooden chest of drawers that sat tucked into the corner adjacent to the door. "Why don't you put some clothes on? Might make you feel better."

Forced to agree with her he walked over and slid open the top drawer. Sure enough there was a set of clean civilian clothes folded up neatly inside. He began to pull them out and inspected them closer. There was a thick red jacket ideal for a combating the cold Virgon winter that the Northern Plains were in the midst of. He placed it on top of the drawers before reaching in again to remove a thick blue shirt and denim trousers. Knowing that there was no reason not to he decided to put them on, first the shirt then the trousers before finally pulling the jacket over his shoulders. Once he was done he turned to Natalie who had watched him get dressed with some interest.

"What?" he snarled at her regarding her long stare.

"I was just thinking that's all," she answered in a joking fashion. "You didn't seem too concerned about being in such a state of undress in front of a woman. You must be used to it."

"You're not a woman!" he spat bitterly. "You're some frakking machine made up to look like a woman. That's all."

"I guess that's a matter of opinion," she said as she watched him return to his pattern of checking what was going on outside through the windows.

"You _are_ a machine!" he repeated. "So is that guy, Adrian."

"So if you smashed my head open there wouldn't be a brain? There would only be wires and circuits, is that it?"

"No!" he said looking back at her while making a conscious effort to keep himself out of sight of the window just in case a Centurion sniper fancied its chances. "I saw what happened to D'Anna Biers on Scorpia when she got shot by that damaged Centurion. There was honest-to-Gods blood and guts inside. You were certainly made to be a very good imitation. So what exactly are you anyway, huh? A clone? Its obvious there is more than one of each type of you things."

"It's quite simple really. I'm a Cylon. There are twelve models in total," she explained. "I'm Number Six and I go by the name of Natalie Faust."

"Is that Megan-girl one too?" he asked seeking an explanation as to why she would have been so friendly with their enemy.

"No," replied Natalie. "She is human. And she's very important to us."

"So she's a collaborator. Is that why she was spared?"

Natalie seemed to wince at his choice of words. "I tell you what; instead of asking me a thousand different questions why don't I just explain to you what's going on. I can't be much fairer than that can I?"

"Alright then," said Nester. "Go ahead."

Natalie sat upright as she prepared herself to explain what was going on. She cleared her throat and took in a hefty portion of oxygen through her mouth before she began to explain, "For some time before the attacks on the colonies we had agents spread out across all twelve worlds gathering intelligence and making the necessary preparations. During that time we started to learn a few things about humanity that we never expected." Natalie stopped momentarily as if to brace herself for the next part. "God was not just working through us. He was working through you too."

"What the frak are you talking about? Which God?"

"The one true God. He has no name but he has a plan for the universe. We always knew _we _were part of his divine will but..."

"You Cylons," Nester couldn't quite believe he was asking a machine this question but sure enough the words emanated from his lips, "you're monotheists?"

Natalie nodded. "You see, we know the truth about God. A truth that has been corroded within man by the worship of your false Gods. Your Lords of Kobol are little more than stories twisted and distorted into what you believe to be reality. Some of it is true but most of your holy scriptures about them have been tainted by centuries of bias and opinion."

"What has all this got to do with what's going on here?" asked Nester who felt he was being toyed with. Cylons believing in God? What a load of nonsense.

"As I said we had agents across all twelve worlds. What some of them discovered during their time here was that God seemed to have chosen a select few to help us carry out his will."

"So they _are_ collaborators?" interjected Nester. "They helped you bring about the holocaust of mankind?"

"Some did," she finally confessed. "Others were unaware of what was happening until the last moment when we had them moved to safe locations to take cover during the bombing. Then, when our ground forces landed we rescued them and brought them here so they could do God's work. They were chosen by him to survive."

"Right," uttered Nester unconvinced.

"You don't believe in what I'm saying do you?" she asked.

"I believe that _you_ believe it," he replied somewhat dryly.

"A few moments ago you called me a monotheist. The idea of a singular all-knowing and all-powerful God is not just confined to Cylons. God had spoken to your own people as well. He told them the truth long before we came along. He helped us to identify the ones he wanted to save."

Nester rubbed the bottom half of his right ear as he had always done when he heard something that was a little too fantastic to believe. A whole range of thoughts ran through his head regarding this revelation about the Cylon belief system. A quite comical thought jumped into his head at that point as he saw a mental image of a Centurion singing hymns at a religious gathering.

"Alright," he said. "Let's suppose it's true for a minute; what's God's plan for these people? And you, of course?"

Natalie seemed to hesitate to give her answer. "We don't know."

"You don't know," he repeated. "You know he has a plan for you and these people you just don't know what it is? Well that's damned mysterious don't you think so?"

Natalie stood up from the bed and looked at him angrily. Her sudden movement put Nester on the defensive. He prepared himself for whatever move he expected her to make against him but instead found her folding her arms in annoyance with him.

"You can mock our faith all you want," she said. "Just remember that we are welcoming you into our family and that the only alternative is that we give you back to Doral. Now if you will excuse me I have some business to attend to. Feel free to explore our town as much as you like. You are quite welcome among us although I wouldn't recommend trying to take any more hostages. Next time I may not be around to stop the Centurions." And with that she began to walk towards the door.

"Hey wait a minute!" he called out but it was no use. She simply walked out the door leaving him dumbfounded. She was never his hostage and he knew it. She was just playing along to try and ease his transition into this new life they seemed to have planned for him. He walked up to the door and peered outside onto the makeshift street between the recently assembled wooden buildings. The upper arms of the semi-buried Baseship hung overhead like some enormous Willow tree casting long shadows down on the town. It was a surreal experience to see people walking by having been in the derelict towns of Scorpia. They walked passed as if they were going about their daily lives before the bombing. A few of them noticed the Marine Lieutenant watching them and gave him a polite nod or wave but none of them stopped to talk to him.

"Just what kind of freak show have I landed myself in now?"

* * *

**Raptor Two-One-Niner**

The mission was coming upto six hours old. 'Aurora's heart was now settled into a more comfortable rhythm as she became accustomed to the wait for something to happen. Her eyes stung from having stared deeply at the screens in front of her for so long. A few times her eyes blurred and she jolted in shock as she saw an image appear on her screen which she was sure was a Cylon Baseship. The sudden rush of adrenalin cleared her eyes to reveal that the screen displayed nothing but empty space for as far as the DRADIS could detect.

"Are you ok back there?" asked 'Stinger' after this had happened for what seemed like the tenth time.

"I'm fine," she huffed in frustration feeling more than a little foolish.

"It's a whole new game when there's no safety net, huh?" asked 'Stinger' dryly referring to the fact that this was her first proper unsupervised mission.

"Yeah," she replied in a manner that implied that it was the understatement of the century. Doubt in her abilities had been a constant companion on this trip. It was 'Stinger' she felt sorry for. In her mind she had convinced herself that he was loathing having her in the back seat. Everyone knew that he and 'Walleye' were a close knit team to the point where they knew each other's movements without having to speak to one another. They had become a completely coherent team and she reasoned it must be a difficult transition for him to suddenly have a 'Rook' in the back.

Despite this she was still glad to have had 'Stinger' as her first pilot. She had struck up a bond with 'Stinger' quite early on when she first started her training. When 'Stinger' temporarily became the CAG, that bond had been broken by his new duties but now that he was just another pilot she hoped that they could build on that positive start.

Unfortunately 'Stinger' was not the man he used to be. After the battle above Scorpia he had taken the deaths of those under his command quite to heart. It was made worse by 'Walleye' being seriously injured by enemy fire impacting on their Raptor. 'Stinger' was still the best Raptor pilot aboard Hermes but his personality had become completely withdrawn into a world of isolation and self pity. He barely spoke to her during the mission except when he had to. Otherwise he seemed to stare out the front cockpit for long periods of time at some distant star that only he could see.

"It's still beautiful," he suddenly uttered to himself just loud enough for the intercom to pick up his voice and transmit it to 'Aurora'.

"What?" she asked.

"The night sky," he explained. "Despite everything that has happened the stars are still the same and we don't appreciate that enough."

"I-I guess so."

'Stinger' smirked. "You scared?"

"A little," she replied feeling there was no point in lying.

"Of what exactly?"

She thought for a moment as she pondered his question. "Of making a mistake. I'm afraid I'm going to forget something important."

"You're trying to control the universe," he said quoting some words he had heard previously. "That's what Commander Bowman told me when he was my instructor at the Raptor School on Caprica four years ago. He said I was trying to control the universe because I wanted to stay on top of everything. He explained to me that unless I was some kind of divine being I was always going to fail. Do you know what he told me?" he asked looking back at her. She shook her head. "He said the first rule of flying a Raptor is to accept that there are a million things that can go wrong and that ninety-nine per cent of them are totally out of your control. When you can climb into a Raptor knowing what you can control and what you cant, only then can you fly to the very edge and get the most out of her. You treat a Raptor right and she will always bring you home."

"Sounds like you love flying Raptors?" she asked.

"Viper jocks always think they're at the top of the Pyramid but Raptor pilots are a special breed. They get into your blood. Wait long enough and it will happen to you too. You'll see, before long you'll…"

A fast repeating beeping noise filled their helmets cutting off their conversation. 'Aurora' turned her head back to her screen.

"Oh my Gods!" she gasped with the purest form of terror gripping her very being. "They found us! They've frakking found us!"

The DRADIS screen showed a single Cylon Baseship at extreme detection range. It was the same tactic as they had used against the Hermes over the past few days. Small dots began to suddenly burst from the blob that was the Baseship displayed on the screen.

"They're launching Raiders!" she shrieked.

"Spooling the FTL!" said 'Stinger' as he instinctively worked the navigational computer.

As the FTL spooled 'Aurora' watched as her screen suddenly filled with static.

"They're jamming us," she said as she found herself reaching for the control panel. Her fingers seemed to subconsciously work the controls as she fought to clear up the interference. The picture cleared momentarily to display a swarm of twenty or so Raiders converging upon them. Clearly the Cylons weren't expecting to find a lone Raptor when they emerged from their jump. They were expecting to find a Battlestar and so they launched their first wave immediately after emerging from their jump. With no Battlestar they nevertheless raced towards their only target; the Raptor.

The Raptor's FTL continued to spool up while 'Aurora' tried desperately to break through the jamming. With her screen being nothing but awash with static she felt like she was locked in a Lion's cage while wearing a blindfold. She didn't know when the Lion would pounce. Occasionally she broke through the jamming as she put her training to use but if there was one thing the Cylons were good at it was blinding DRADIS and they quickly adapted.

Suddenly she felt her body tingle with static. A brilliant white light engulfed the inside of the Raptor causing her heart to seemingly jump into her mouth. She was sure they had been hit but it was not long before she realized that 'Stinger' had hit the 'flash button' and they had jumped away.

They had escaped the Cylons.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Bowman's Office**

The handset in the corner of the room by the door buzzed loudly. Bowman pulled himself away from the paperwork he had buried himself in since coming from the Morgue. He walked over to it and lifted it up to the side of his face, "Bowman!"

He quickly identified the voice on the other end of the line as belonging to Colonel Dytto. "The Raptor is back early."

"Understood," said Bowman before hanging up the handset. He didn't need his XO to elaborate further. The fact that the Raptor had returned to Hermes before the sixteen hours was up could mean only one thing.

He now knew for certain that there was at least one Cylon agent aboard Hermes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Approximately Three Jumps from the SC-287 Dust Cloud  
AKA 'Big Red'**

The Astral Mariner was a Picon registered civilian cargo ship. It was an immense vessel designed to haul upto eighteen thousand tons of cargo across the twelve colonies as well as various outposts and space stations all the way up to the Red Line; the end of colonized space. To achieve this feat the vessel required two Faster-Than-Light drive coils to help squeeze the ship through the artificially created spatial distortion that is the key to the only practical form of space travel.

It left the Orpheus dockyards above Picon bound for Aerilon with its heavy cargo and thirty seven crewmembers just four hours before the Cylons attacked the colony. Although still within the sublight shipping lanes, vessels are not permitted to engage their FTL drives while in these lanes which line each of the twelve colonies for fear of damaging other vessels with the wake of the spatial distortion, the Captain of the ship had no choice but to jump away or be destroyed by marauding Cylon Raiders looking for easy kills amongst the civilian fleets.

For several days after the attacks the Astral Mariner roamed through space trying desperately to avoid the Cylons. With no weapons or Colonial Fleet ships to protect it against Cylon 'Bloodsuckers' it was only a matter of time before the ship's luck ran out. It happened fourteen days after the destruction of the colonies. A malfunction in the FTL navigation computer forced the ship's safety protocols to engage and thus prevent the ship from jumping away as four Cylon Raiders appeared and began an attack. The Raiders in this instance were only armed with conventional weapons rather than nuclear ones and given the size of the Astral Mariner it took several hits to penetrate its hull thus killing its crew which was the primary aim of the Cylons. Much of the ship remained intact following the attack although several of its containers that were normally scabbed along the hull for the journey between colonies had broken free and were floating aimlessly alongside the hulk. It was a sad end to what was once a proud ship.

The hull flashed suddenly. Then again. Its metallic body momentarily reflected the bright white light that comes from a vessel emerging from an FTL jump. In this instance it was two Cylon Raiders that appeared off what was left of its starboard side. They were themselves on a 'Bloodsucker' mission. A Cylon 'Bloodsucker' refers to a tactic used by the Cylons whereby a small group of Raiders patrol space armed with nuclear ship-to-ship weapons. Their goal is to find an enemy vessel and attempt to disable its FTL with their nuclear weapons so that reinforcements can be called for to finish the job. It is a more cost effective way of disposing of what was left of the Colonial Fleet.

These two Raiders had been on patrol for almost three days. They had made a habit of stopping to check on the wreckage of the Astral Mariner whenever they came by this way for any signs of interference from a passing colonial ship that hoped to salvage any parts from it. As time went on the chances became ever more remote but if there is one thing the Cylons can't tolerate its loose ends.

Like black ghosts the two Cylons glided over the main bulk of the wreckage, their red 'eyes' scanning for anything that seemed out of place from the last time they had visited the dead ship. They completed their first pass over the wreck and so they both fired their forward thrusters bringing them to halt. They then began to turn the noses of their Raiders back around to face the hulk. The lead Raider suddenly broke formation and with the second Raider watching from afar to provide cover it swooped in closer to the wreckage maneuvering between several detached cargo containers one of which had been loaded with cars that were now littering the immediate area making stand-off DRADIS scans difficult at best due to the subsequent clutter. The leader passed by the debris field and now had a clear view of the gaping hole in the side of the vessel. Its partner still sat outside the debris field trying to monitor the progress of its partner but was having difficulty in tracking it once it was inside the littered wreckage.

The leader floated up and over the vessel just a few hundred meters from the hull. Its red 'eye' scanned from left to right as it searched the entire spectrum of light available to its artificial eye. Ultraviolet. Infrared. All these things provided a clear image of the ship it was looking at better than a human could ever hope to achieve under the same circumstances. It pulled up over the dorsal hull of the ship where several containers floated overhead providing a metal canopy that hid this part of the ship from when they passed overhead initially.

The Raider suddenly stopped. Its 'eye' fixed on an object it hadn't seen before. It produced no heat signature in the infrared spectrum but had altered the silhouette of the ship when viewed through ultraviolet. Curious in its own primitive way the Cylon focused all its energy on scanning forward trying to make sense of what it was seeing. Its genetically engineered mind tried to come up with possible scenarios to explain this new shape it was seeing. Perhaps a meteorite had struck it or perhaps a delayed secondary internal explosion?

Flash!

The infrared scanner went blind. Before it could even register what was going on a cannon shell fired from the object it was investigating hit it head on. The shell, armed with a delayed fuse, penetrated the 'face' of the Raider before detonating inside its little body. Its hull burst open with a bright orange and red plume of fire from the inside as the little warrior was quickly reduced to pieces of debris no bigger than a dinner plate. With no more oxygen to fuel it the fire quickly dissipated and with it the last trace of where the Raider had once been.

Its partner had seen the flash from the explosion that the lead Raider had been consumed by. It quickly swooped into the debris field, its missile bays opened and its rotary launcher extending outwards ready to fire its deadly salvo at whatever had caused the destruction of its compatriot. Maneuvering wildly at high speed through the debris field the Raider quickly identified several components of the dead lead Raider but could not have known that the strange object from which the weapons fire had emerged was now gone. Unable to identify the cause of the destruction of its leader the Cylon delved into its core programming for which course of action it should undertake. Its 'brain' told it that its best course of action would be to report what had happened back to its mother ship. Although the leader was already beginning to download into a new body the process would take sometime to complete by which time the second Raider could have returned with reinforcements.

The remaining Cylon continued to swoop around close to the main hulk of the Astral Mariner building up speed as it went before finally spotting a break in the debris field. It surged upwards heading for the gap in the floating wreckage, its DRADIS beams being reflected back from the surrounding debris thus producing an incomplete picture of what was outside of the floating wreckage.

Clear of the debris the Raider was now free to engage its FTL drive. Its FTL coils began to spin as it charged up. A shell suddenly went darting passed the Raider missing its rear hull just enough not to trigger its proximity fuse. Then another and another. The Raider just needed three more seconds to power up its FTL. It banked sharply to the right as it took evasive action to buy itself time.

Several shells appeared to be spat at the Raider saturating the surrounding space. One shell exploded nearby sending shards of shrapnel into the Cylon's hull. One of the shards cut straight through the spooling FTL drive thus disabling it. With the fuel lines cut he tyllium fuel began leaking into the main hull.

Like a wounded bird the apparently startled Cylon began swooping around trying to find who was shooting at it. It would never see its killer. A shell exploded on the Raider's ventral hull cracking it open like some giant walnut. The flame mixed with the oxygen used to sustain the 'brain' of the Raider allowing it to burn long enough to ignite the tyllium fuel that was now swooshing around its hull. Like its compatriot the Raider became engulfed in a red and orange plume reducing its body to ashes. The plume quickly dissipated thus removing another Cylon body from the universe but not its consciousness which began traveling through the universe towards a Resurrection Ship where it would be reborn into a new body.

Its killer's guns had fallen silent once more as the dark ship glided over its victim's remains. It was about the size of a Colonial Heavy Liner such as the Alexis but resembled a shark in its appearance with a long rounded forward section housing two heavy cannons. Located along the central hull where short and stubby looking wings that served to house two more heavy cannons identical in caliber to those found on the Illustrious- or Jupiter-class Battlestars. At the rear of the small warship was the drive section housing four sublight engines as well as the FTL drive. It was here that the ship had black scorch marks from enemy weapons fire sustained during a previous engagement. The damage served as its black badge of courage showing that this little ship was a fighter and a survivor.

Had the Raiders been able to take a proper look at the ship then their memory banks would have identified it as a Colonial Faststar; a fast attack and patrol craft operated by the Colonial Fleet for the purpose of launching high speed cannon and missile attacks against Baseships in the hope of weakening their defenses before the main fleet attacked.

In small lettering across the hull was the name 'Eurylade'.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Wardroom**

"Sorry I'm late, sir," said 'Griffon' breathlessly as he stumbled into the wardroom having just run from the Hangar Deck. "I got caught up in 'Stinger' and 'Aurora's debriefing."

"You're here now," said Commander Bowman standing beside the far side of the desk that dominated the centre of the room. This large desk always sat under the watchful eye of the large portrait that hung over the far wall depicting Hermes, the patron God of one of the last surviving Battlestars. "Make sure that hatch is sealed would you, Major?"

'Griffon' turned back to the hatch and closed it behind him before spinning the wheel through two hundred and seventy degrees to the right. Finally he pulled the bolt across thus sealing in everyone in the room from the rest of the ship. 'Griffon' turned back to look at the assembled officers.

On the far side of the table with the painting of Hermes behind him was Commander Artimus Bowman. 'Griffon' and a few others who were closer to him than the rest of the crew had noticed the change in Bowman's face over the past month. It had become longer and always looked tired whenever 'Griffon' or any of the others had a private meeting with him. However, when the Commander was in CIC he always gave off an air of energy and confidence that filtered through to the rest of the crew. He was a master at hiding his feelings for their sake. A Battlestar is only as strong as its Commander and he took this to heart.

Sitting opposite was Captain Chloe Burmeister, the Tactical Officer of Hermes. Like Bowman she had undergone a significant change since the fall of the colonies. She was more serious looking having lost her youth that she was once envied for by many but perhaps the biggest change she had undertaken during this time was the discovery that she was to be a mother. She wasn't showing properly yet being only a month along but she had already become quite nauseous at times which only worsened her morale. There were rumors regarding who the father was but only Bowman and Dytto knew for certain.

Finally, the last person in the room waiting for 'Griffon' to arrive was Colonel Caleb Dytto, the XO. Dytto stood there with eye daggers being thrown at the Major for his tardiness. 'Griffon' was regularly late for meetings getting caught up with other things and in Dytto's eyes this showed a significant lack of organizational skills on the part of the Hermes CAG and former acting-XO during the period Dytto had been relieved by Bowman. While 'Griffon' was occasionally late to meetings and turning in paperwork he was however an outstanding Viper pilot and an excellent leader in the field and it was this fact that had probably saved him from further disciplinary actions.

These four people shared a certain secret that they had kept hidden from the rest of the crew. They were the only ones who knew that the Cylons had evolved from pure machine to human form. There was another aboard the Hermes who knew this fact but who wasn't present at this meeting. Lieutenant Callisto was the officer in command of the Marine detachment aboard Hermes. He had been awarded a battlefield commission by Bowman after the loss of Nester Adrastos during the salvage operation on Scorpia. Bowman knew he could rely on Callisto's discretion but chose to keep him out of these discussions except when it directly concerned him or his Marines.

'Griffon' walked up to the large polished wood table and took a seat next to Burmeister. Dytto continued to stand by the corner of the table between them and Bowman. He had been the last to find out about the Cylon evolution having been out of the loop when he was relieved by Bowman for several days. Although he had been fully briefed he still felt like he was playing catch-up.

Ready to begin, Dytto, Burmeister and 'Griffon' turned to face Bowman waiting for him to begin. Bowman cleared his throat as he almost always did before speaking during briefings. He stood up firmly and placed his hands behind his back before taking a deep breath.

"There is at least one Cylon agent aboard Hermes," he said simply. They had all realized it for themselves by now but to actually hear him say it out loud cemented the fact in their hearts and minds.

"So now that we know," said Dytto surprisingly calmly after a brief silence had occupied the room, "what do we do about it?"

"It's obvious that this agent has somehow gained access to our navigational systems," said Burmeister leaning forward with her elbows onto the desk as she did so. "That's where we need to start looking. The NAVCOM is a hard line system, there's no way anyone could gain access to it with a wireless device, if we search every wire of the FTL system we should eventually find where the connection has been intercepted."

"That's a big job!" interjected 'Griffon'. "You're talking about miles and miles of cables embedded into the ship. There isn't just one wire leading from the NAVCOM to the FTL. The system has quadruple redundancy so that should the ship sustain heavy damage we can still control the ship."

"May I make a recommendation?" asked Dytto to Bowman.

"Of course," said Bowman who still couldn't get used to this new and warmer relationship he had with his XO. "I call this briefing open to any recommendations."

Dytto nodded in acknowledgement before stepping one pace closer to the desk to address the assembled officers, the leaders of the Battlestar Hermes. "I believe we should isolate one hard line connection and check it thoroughly. Once we are certain it's safe we should only use that one."

"That would leave us vulnerable should it be damaged in battle," commented Burmeister all the while refusing to look at the Colonel as she did so. "It would take at least a quarter of an hour to manually reestablish a new hard line connection between the NAVCOM and the FTL system."

"Yes but if I may finish," continued Dytto. "If we leak some story that we are more badly damaged than we actually are and have to shut down the other lines we may force the Cylon agent to try and access the one line that's operational. That's when we can catch the bastard!"

"It's risky," said Burmeister.

"To be alive is risky at the moment…_Captain!_" shot Dytto. Dytto turned to Bowman to wait for his answer. Past experience told Dytto that Bowman would come up with some reason why they weren't going to follow this recommendation. Bowman had rejected so many before but in hindsight Dytto had begun to realize that a lot of his recommendations were deliberate efforts to make sure they were on opposite sides.

"It's a shot," said Bowman much to Dytto's surprise. "It's the best one we've got. Make it happen, Colonel!"

"Yes sir," uttered Dytto.

'Griffon' watched as Bowman gave Dytto's plan his approval and noted that both men seemed awkward with one another. It was going to be a long time before they would ever get close to what could possibly be described as a friendship between them but on a professional level their relationship was getting stronger by the day. They still had their moments every now and again and everyone suspected that when the two of them were alone they were often at each other's throats.

"In the meantime, however," interjected 'Griffon'. "How can we be sure that this agent won't get hold of our projected course before we are ready to set this trap?"

Bowman turned to Burmeister for the answer 'Griffon' was looking for. Every eye fell on the dark haired young woman from Gemenon as she reached into the left sleeve of her duty jacket. Concealed inside was a small safety pin holding the inner lining of her jacket in place. She removed the pin to reveal a makeshift pocket located between the inner and outer lining of her uniform. She placed the pin on the desk before reaching into the pocket to produce a small piece of folded up paper that when she opened it had four sets of twelve numbers written on it; jump coordinates.

"These are the preliminary jump coordinates I have plotted manually to get us to 'Big Red'," she explained to them. "This is the only copy on the ship. Everytime we make a jump I've been checking the calculations over to negate navigational error that comes from plotting jumps in advance."

"That's our road map to the dust cloud," added Bowman as Burmeister began the process of putting the sheet of paper back into the concealed pocket. "It's crude but necessary given the current situation."

The intercom set situated by the hatch began to buzz three times in quick succession before repeating the process. Dytto walked over to it while 'Griffon' and Bowman continued to discuss the idea of sending Raptors out ahead of them on reconnaissance flights, something Bowman decided against in an effort to get the Hermes to 'Big Red' as quickly as possible so as to reduce the chances of the Cylons discovering them once more.

Dytto picked up the handset for the intercom and held it to the side of his face. "XO…We're in the middle of an important meeting here, can't it wait…Very well."

Dytto hung up the handset and turned back to his three fellow officers who had heard one side of the conversation.

"Captain Burmeister is late for an appointment in Sickbay," he explained. "I tried to tell our CMO that she is a little busy but he insists that she make her way there immediately."

"That's ok," said Bowman. "Captain, you're dismissed."

"Yes sir," said Burmeister who proceeded to stand up.

As she turned to leave she suddenly heard Bowman call out, "And Chloe…" She stopped just a few paces from the where she had been sat at the desk. Dytto still stood near the hatch as he waited to hear what Bowman wanted to say to her before she left. For his part, Bowman regretted addressing her by her first name knowing what he was about to say to her. He knew this was one of those moments he needed to be completely detached from his officers emotionally. "You are now effectively our navigational computer. You are the only one who knows those coordinates you have written down. There's a possibility that the Cylon agent may try to gain access to those coordinates."

Dytto suddenly felt his stomach swirling. Although he had effectively shunned her since the discovery that she was pregnant out of marriage, a major taboo on Gemenon, he couldn't help but feel just a little concerned for her as Bowman spoke of the possibility that she might become a target for a Cylon. It might have been out of habit, after all he had been her honorary uncle since she was born, or it could have been genuine concern but either way he did his best to hide it even as he recommended to Bowman, "Perhaps we should assign her a Marine bodyguard?"

"No," said Burmeister to everyone's surprise. "That would attract too much attention."

Everyone turned back to Bowman to wait for his next orders for Burmeister. He spoke with a softer tone than he usually did when issuing orders but there was no denying that he wanted his orders carried out to the letter.

"When you are finished with Deveroux," he began. "I want you to see the Master-At-Arms and have him issue you a pistol."

"Something small that can be concealed easily," added Dytto.

"Yes sir," said Burmeister to Bowman. "Anything else, sir?"

It was no secret that Burmeister was a smart officer and as she asked Bowman for any additional orders he knew that she had already concluded what the final order would be on this matter. It didn't make it any easier for the Commander however.

"If you can defend yourself so be it," he said to her. "However, if it looks like you are going to be compromised you are to destroy that piece of paper and…"

"Understood _clearly_, sir," she explained firmly. Bowman looked deep into her green eyes as she spoke those terrible words. There was no doubt in his mind that she would put a gun to her head and pull the trigger thus ending her life and her baby's life in order to protect the Hermes. Bowman felt sick to his stomach that he had ordered her to do this. It was not an easy or callous decision he had taken. He felt a piece of his soul dying inside as he watched her leave the room. It was probably the worst order he had ever given in his twenty years in the Colonial Fleet but he had to do it. Burmeister was still the best Tactical Officer he had ever met and she was the only one he could trust with this responsibility. It was one of those things that was always cruelly disguised as an operational necessity.

"You're both dismissed!" said Bowman to the two remaining officers rubbing his eyes that stung with tiredness and stress.

Dytto opened the hatch once more and allowed 'Griffon' to step out first. After the hatch had closed once more Bowman looked up to see that Dytto had remained in the room. Under the terms of their arrangement that kept Dytto as the XO Bowman allowed him to say whatever he wanted whenever the two of them were out of earshot from the crew.

"Just do it!" he said to Dytto who had walked up to the opposite end of the table and was now resting his right hand on the chair Burmeister had just been sat in. "Come on, Caleb. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dytto replied faking indifference.

Bowman's fists clenched in a way they had always done since his time at Abry when he was on the Academy Boxing team. It had become a subconscious movement on his part whenever he felt the fury inside him building up. The one part of his personality Bowman hated more than any other was his temper. He was able to control it most of the time but every so often it would filter through and come to the surface.

"You know what I'm talking about," said Bowman. "Chloe!"

"No," uttered Dytto looking away momentarily. "You're right about the pistol. And you're right about your order."

Bowman slammed his right hand down on the table with such force that it seemed to reverberate in the ship's hull. He could feel the pain that was beginning to throb in it and felt all the better for it.

"Do you hate her that much?" Bowman asked.

"Of course I don't!" shot back Dytto. "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh I understand perfectly well," responded Bowman scornfully. "Banishment! That's the Gemonese way whenever a woman falls pregnant out of wedlock."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Dytto angrily. "Turn my back on thousands of years of tradition?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking you to do!" boomed Bowman. "In case you haven't noticed our home worlds, including Gemenon, are gone. They've been nuked to ash. All we have left is each other and you want to hold on to some corrupt and idiotic code of practice that keeps that girl alone and terrified to raise her baby on a Battlestar with no hope of ever going home! You make me sick."

It was then that Dytto realized why Bowman was doing this. He walked around the desk and right upto the Commander until they were only inches from one another. Both men squared up to the other ready for a fight. Bowman had struck Dytto once before and was eager to settle the score however he decided that today was not that day.

As calmly as he could muster it, Dytto said, "This isn't about me and Chloe. This is about you. You want to punish yourself for having to make decisions everyday that you know could very well lead to someone dying. This thing with Chloe and the gun; we've never been friends but I do know you Bowman. You are a family man. You always have been, but you're a family man without a family and so you've made everyone on Hermes your family. You try to hide it behind those pips on your neck but you feel every death personally. Now, I love Chloe and that will never change but I just can't…"

Dytto couldn't continue. There was nothing more for them to say except for Dytto to sum up with, "You're going to have to find your solace somewhere else."

Dytto turned around and started to walk out of the room. Before he could open the hatch Bowman yelled out, "Hey, Colonel! If this is a family then what are you to me?"

Dytto grinned out the side of his lip. "I'm the stubborn little brother who never listens to you and always plays with your toys when your back is turned."

"Very apt," said Bowman to himself as Dytto left through the hatch leaving Bowman alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
'The Slum'**

Maria Tyler's life in 'The Slum' had changed in the last twenty four hours. She was now eyed with suspicion by everyone. People who were previously threatening towards her now did their best to stay away from her but so too did anyone who had been friendly. As she went to get her last food ration for the day she could hear people whispering about her as she passed by. They all said it in different ways but they all meant the same thing.

"Whore!"

Her encounter with Armand Lee and her effective rape by the Marine had meant she was now a tool of his gang and as such was protected from harm by the threat of reprisals. People feared her and the truth was that in 'The Slum' that was a good thing but it had cost her. Her body didn't feel like her own anymore. It felt like she was wearing someone else's dirtied clothes that could be snatched away from her at any time.

She stood in line for her and her brother's food. The Marines distributed the food near the entrances to make it easier to secure it whenever trouble kicked off with people as it frequently did. Desperation causes people to do things they wouldn't otherwise do and there were few places more desperate left in the universe than in 'The Slum' of the Battlestar Hermes.

After a wait of more than half an hour she approached the table where the Marines were issuing food. There were four Marines handling four people at each time from a row of tables placed together upon which the food was placed for collection. A pair of Marines kept the people in the queue a good twelve feet from these tables to avoid the civilians rushing the ones who were already being issued their food ration.

"Ok, next!" called out the Marine guard on Maria's right as one of the spaces became open. "On the far right!" he said guiding her to the number four position. She walked slowly over to the position that was concealed by a woman and her frail looking son trying to negotiate with the Marine at the number three position for a little bit more food. Negotiating never worked and was always met by another Marine guard forcefully removing them.

Maria walked upto the number four position. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she gasped in subdued horror at the Marine manning the position. It was Abbott, the Marine who had raped her as part of a deal with Lee for a gun.

Abbott was horrified to see her also. He saw his own guilt reflected in her eyes as she looked at him pathetically.

"Uh…Name?" asked Abbott trying to maintain a façade infront of his fellow Marines.

"Maria Tyler," she said almost in a whimper. "I have to collect food for my brother as well."

Abbott pretended to scan the records he had infront of him. The records contained the names of people who were authorized to collect food for others. He of course knew who she was and that she had a brother she collected for but his own guilt demanded that he pretend that she was just another hungry 'civvy'.

"Yea, I have you here," he lied. He began to gather her assigned food ration onto a tray. It was a simple meal of some powdered mash potatoes, gravy and a few vegetables. Since vegetables spoiled sooner than some of the other foodstuffs the crew of the Hermes had salvaged from Scorpia they were being used up sooner. "Here you go."

Maria looked down at the ration she had been given. It seemed to be more than what the others were getting. It wasn't enough to be immediately obvious but if you looked closely you could tell. She picked up the tray and carried it away without as much as a word of thanks to Abbott. What did she have to be thankful for? Perhaps he was trying to ease his own guilt but she knew that she would be called for again by him. Abbott still hadn't completed his part of the deal and no doubt he would want more payment from Lee.

She was his payment.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Sickbay**

The screen was a mess of indistinguishable grey and black blobs and squiggles that were quickly changing shape in a fluid like fashion as Nurse Taylor ran the handheld scanner across Burmeister's abdomen. The gel used to lubricate the scanner as well as improve its sensitivity felt cold to the touch causing Burmeister to shiver as Taylor searched for any sign of the fetus on the screen.

"Anything?" asked Burmeister. She could distinguish the smallest object on a DRADIS screen bus as she looked at the sonogram return all she could see was more and more blobs.

"Not yet," said Taylor who began pressing the scanner down harder causing Burmeister to wince. "It usually takes a while at this stage so don't worry."

Burmeister kept watching the screen looking for the slightest indication of something that looked like a baby. She was starting to get frustrated with the whole thing and Taylor quickly picked up on this.

"I am sorry this is taking so long, Captain," she explained. "I'm only trained to operate this machine when looking for internal injuries. This is my first baby."

"It's ok," said Burmeister. "The first baby born on Hermes, huh?"

"Second actually," corrected Taylor. "About four years ago we picked up survivors from a stricken transport shuttle. One of the women onboard went into labour aboard the Raptor as it made its way back. The baby was born in here a few hours later. A little boy. The mother didn't have a name for him and she hadn't seen his father in months so she called him Hermes."

"Really?" gasped Burmeister at the incredible story.

"Dr Farrah used to keep a picture of him in his office but after he was killed above Picon and Deveroux took over as our Chief Medical Officer we haven't seen it since. Ah! There it is!" Burmeister looked back at the screen. It was still an indistinguishable blob but in the middle thumping away was a clear heartbeat.

"My Gods! That's…"

"Your baby's heartbeat," explained Taylor with a smile that was beaming across her face.

A single tear emerged in Burmeister's eye. This was the first time the baby had seemed real to her. Until now it just felt like she had a virus that was causing her to feel ill every so often. If anything it was more of a parasite to her than a small human being. Now she was looking at the heartbeat of this new life that was growing inside her and felt awash with emotion. She didn't know how to respond. She was happy, scared and distraught all at the same time because of one grainy image on a screen.

Standing in the background and watching from across Sickbay was Caleb Dytto. When he saw that everything seemed ok he silently turned his back and walked away.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre  
15 Minutes Later**

The CIC was once again a hive of activity as the crew was busily getting everything ready for the next jump towards 'Big Red'. Captain Burmeister had only just joined them from her appointment in Sickbay. As she took her station she began to recall the twelve numbers in sequence that were the next set of jump coordinates. Prior to going to CIC she had memorized them until she could recall them exactly. This was so she wouldn't have to get the sheet of paper out of her hiding place in front of the CIC crew. The sad fact of the matter was the Cylon agent could have been anyone, a fact reinforced by the small pistol that was now in a holster wrapped around her ankle beneath her trousers.

"Engine room reporting ready for jump, sir," announced Petty Officer Durand after having received the message from the 'snipes' that they were ready to proceed. The 'snipes' were being overly cautious about using the FTL until they were guaranteed the opportunity to take it apart and repair the damage caused to it by the 'hiccup' maneuver they had performed above Scorpia.

"Very good," said Bowman standing at the Operations Desk beside Dytto. "Make ready to jump, Colonel!" Dytto didn't acknowledge him. Bowman looked over at his XO and saw that his eyes were fixed on Burmeister. His thoughts were clearly consumed by the young woman manning the Tactical Station. "Colonel!"

Dytto seemed to snap himself out of his gaze before looking at Bowman. "Sorry sir, of course." Dytto picked up the handset off the desk and pushed the button for loudspeaker. He held up the microphone embedded into the handset upto his lips and a klaxon sounded throughout the ship. "All hands; make ready to jump!"

A few moments later Petty Officer Durand announced, "Engine room reporting FTL is spooling normally; ready to jump on your command sir."

"Captain Burmeister; please input new jump coordinates into the FTL drive," ordered Bowman.

Burmeister began entering in the twelve digit sequence before depressing the safety key that prevented the ship from jumping prematurely. "Ready sir!"

Bowman looked around and saw everyone waiting for the order. "Jump the ship!"

* * *

The Battlestar Hermes was suddenly engulfed by a brilliant flash of white light that ran the length of the ship in less time than it took to blink an eyelid. The enormous discharge of energy tore a hole in the very fabric of space and time before squeezing the immense vessel through the artificially created spatial distortion.

To the casual observer the ship disappeared only to reappear many light years away.

* * *

"Jump completed!" reported Burmeister. The words had barely left her mouth when suddenly the ship was rocked by an impact against the hull. It didn't feel like a missile impact. It wasn't even remotely as powerful but it did startle everyone in CIC including Bowman who sprung into action.

"Report!" boomed the Commander.

Burmeister frantically worked the DRADIS trying to ascertain what had caused the impact. Her screen was a mess of DRADIS returns from numerous objects ahead of the Battlestar. "Multiple contacts directly ahead!"

"Cylons?" asked Dytto.

"Can't be sure, DRADIS is confused."

"That didn't feel like weapons fire," said Bowman to his XO. "All the same, set Condition One!"

"Aye sir," replied Dytto who pulled the handset off its holder on the desk and once again selected loudspeaker. "All hands; set condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill." Dytto repeated the order before returning it the Operations Desk.

"Sir I don't think its Cylons out there," said Burmeister. Bowman quickly ran over to her station and leaned over to look at her display. There was one large object just ahead of them but numerous smaller ones scattered all around it. "Sir, it looks more like a debris field to me."

"A debris field?" asked Bowman.

"Yes sir. I'm not detecting any active EM signatures that might indicate a ship's systems are active."

"Could they have been caught up in our wake when we jumped in?" asked Bowman. "Did we destroy them?"

"No sir," replied Burmeister. "We would still have residual energy signatures on the scanners. Whoever it is they've been dead for a while." Another piece of debris impacted on the hull but with less force than the earlier one.

"Well either way we need to get out of it," said Bowman. "Find us a path, Captain."

"Aye sir," she said as Bowman stood back up and turned back towards the Operations Desk. "Helm; alter heading zero-five-zero carom one-four."

* * *

The Battlestar Hermes began to tilt over to the right relative to its original heading as it turned away from the debris field. The immense warship took hit after hit of smaller debris as it tried to escape from the carnage. These smaller pieces of metal barely made an impression on the Hermes except for the sound of metal hitting metal ringing inside the ship. Gradually the Battlestar left the debris field behind and continued to move away from it until such a time that it would not pose a threat to its already scarred hull.

Unknown to anyone on Hermes the ship was being watched.

* * *

"We're clear, sir," said Burmeister as she took a range reading on the nearest piece of detectable debris i.e. the largest one that could threaten to damage the Battlestar. The range meter read that it was now three hundred kilometers away.

"Alright then," declared Bowman. "Let's find out who it was. Have the Hangar Deck ready a Raptor and an EVA team to check it out. Have them look for-"

"DRADIS contact!" bellowed Burmeister. "Directly astern. It's a vessel. It must have been hiding amongst the wreckage."

"What type of vessel?" asked Dytto.

"Can't be certain but it's bigger than a Raider," she replied.

"Helm; hard to starboard!" shot Bowman quickly.

The aft section of a Battlestar where the engines were located was the most vulnerable part of the warship being poorly protected by defensive batteries. Bowman knew this and if the vessel was hostile then they had a prime opportunity to inflict some serious damage on the engines potentially crippling the Battlestar.

"Launch the alert Vipers!"

Durand relayed the order down to the Hangar Deck. Suddenly he seemed to stop mid sentence as he began to listen to something coming in over the wireless. At first he refused to believe it but when the message was repeated he knew it was true.

"Commander; I'm receiving a message from the vessel behind us."

"A message?" asked Bowman.

"Yes sir," replied Durand. "For us."

"Put it on speakers!"

The overhead speakers hissed into life before a male voice began to crackle through. "…to the Battlestar off my forward hull. Please respond?"

"Vipers are away, sir," interjected Durand.

"Have them take up defensive positions on our aft hemisphere!" ordered Bowman, "but do not engage until I give the order or that ship opens fire." Durand acknowledged the order and relayed it to 'Griffon's Vipers. "Durand; make challenge to the vessel!"

"Yes sir," said Durand who then began to transmit a message to the target vessel. "Attention vessel on my aft side, this is the Battlestar Hermes, identify yourself or I will fire upon you!" There was a brief pause while they waited for the response to be broadcast over the speakers.

"Battlestar Hermes this is the Faststar Eurylade, we are transmitting transponder codes to you for verification. Please acknowledge receipt."

Burmeister's console beeped as the codes were received. She checked them against the known transponder codes within the Hermes database. Sure enough they were listed as being authentic.

"That doesn't prove anything," said Dytto. "It's been over a month since the fleet was destroyed, the codes could have been compromised."

Bowman was about to agree with his XO when Durand received another signal from the Eurylade. "Sir, the Commander of the Eurylade is requesting to speak with you on a private line."

Bowman looked at Dytto and nodded to him. It was his way of asking his XO to listen in on the conversation. Both Bowman and Dytto picked up a handset from around the Operations Desk. Dytto placed his spare hand over the microphone of his handset so his breathing would not give away the fact that he was listening in.

"Alright," said Bowman to Durand. "Put him through." Durand transferred the connection to the Operations Desk. Once he was done, Bowman spoke into his own handset. "Attention Faststar Eurylade this is Hermes-Actual. To whom am I speaking?"

There was a brief pause before the speaker in the handset crackled as someone began to transmit but was hesitant in speaking. The pause lasted no more than four seconds before finally someone spoke. The voice did not belong to the man who spoke during the first exchanges of messages. Instead the voice belonged to a woman.

"Hello 'Ace'…Been a long time."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six Years before 'The Fall'  
Caprica, Fort Milledge on the Isle of Brenna**

Artimus Bowman sat slumped up against the back of the pilot's chair in the Raptor. This particular Raptor had almost cost him his life when it was sabotaged by a Sagittaron Liberation Army sympathizer aboard the Battlestar Valkyrie in an attempt to kill Commander Scott Tolan whom Artimus was transporting at the time. The badly damaged Raptor had been confiscated from the Valkyrie by Fleet Command in an effort to cover up the abortive mission led by Tolan to rescue the President's sister and niece from the SLA. It seemed fitting that he should come here to where this mission began for him now that it was over.

Wearing only a set of bright orange mechanic's coveralls since he had no clothes at the base Artimus tried desperately to picture a certain woman's face but no matter how much he tried it just wouldn't come to him. There were no photographs of her that he could look at as a reminder and as such she seemed to be little more than an enigma to him now.

A man appeared in the hatchway. It was Tolan. He looked inside the Raptor and found his XO for this mission staring vaguely ahead of him as if the Commander weren't there. Undeterred, Tolan climbed inside and clambered over to Bowman before dropping down beside him. The two of them tried to think of something to say to one another but nothing came to their lips. They just sat there paying a silent homage to their fallen comrade who had given her life to save them. They had hoped she would have survived the bombing of the SLA base but they both knew that was all but impossible. Just an hour earlier the Ministry of Intelligence agent, Keene Barron, had confirmed what they had suspected all along.

"Galit is dead…"

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes****  
Combat Information Centre  
40 Days since 'The Fall'**

The handset in Commander Bowman's hand almost slipped from his grasp as he heard the woman's voice transmitted over the wireless from the Faststar Eurylade. He felt a sensation in his stomach he could only describe as being akin to it collapsing in on itself. He knew that voice. It had been embedded into his memory and he would probably never forget it. It was the voice of Galit Malka, a woman he believed having been killed in the mission to rescue the President's sister and niece over six years ago. But surely that was impossible?

Colonel Dytto looked on at Bowman across the Operations Desk waiting for some kind of explanation from his Commanding Officer. Bowman was overwhelmed however. He couldn't think. His mind had become a mess of questions that all garbled into one another creating a mind block that seemed impossible to shift.

Suddenly and unintentionally the two highest ranking officers aboard the Battlestar Hermes clasped eyes on one another. In a brief second Bowman found the clarity he needed emanating from his XO. For nearly all of their time aboard Hermes Dytto had been there pointing out every single mistake Bowman had been making and although those days were behind them now he could still hear his XO's voice telling him to get a grip.

As if in response his thoughts cleared. He pushed them aside and quickly reassessed the situation. It couldn't be her! Galit was dead and that left one possibility in his mind; Cylons. Maybe this was some kind of deception on their part to throw off the Commander in preparation for an attack? He couldn't know for sure but that was the worst case scenario that was pulsing in his mind like a flashing neon sign. He needed to act for the wellbeing of his ship and his crew. The Hermes was now half way through completing its turn to starboard but the Eurylade was still coming towards them. The Hermes guns were now in clear view of the Faststar.

"Get me a targeting solution on that ship!" he roared decisively to Burmeister.

"Aye sir!" replied Burmeister who proceeded to relay the order down to the gun crews.

* * *

The aft-most gun turrets of the Battlestar Hermes began to swivel out of their stowed position as their crews trained their targeting sights on the approaching vessel. A series of DRADIS 'pings' were transmitted down to the crews from CIC giving them information on the target's heading and speed to help improve target acquisition. The Eurylade was still coming towards them directly and as such made for an easy kill should the order be given to fire and thus destroy the small warship.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

The wireless crackled in the speaker of Bowman's handset as he again heard her voice transmitted across space.

"'Ace', what are you doing?" she asked calmly as if she were enquiring as to why he was putting an extra lump of sugar in his morning coffee and not training heavy caliber ship-to-ship gun batteries on her vessel.

Bowman knew that the Eurylade still had a good firing solution on his Battlestar. The Faststar-class of ship had a heavy forward firing nuclear missile armament and the ship was still coming head first towards Hermes. He still had yet to ascertain if the ship was friendly or had been hijacked by the enemy. He needed to force their hand so they could respond accordingly.

"Gamma radiation levels?" asked Bowman.

Burmeister accessed the radiometer equipment that was part of the Hermes vast sensor network and scanned the Gamma radiation spectrum. Whenever nuclear missiles went hot there would be a Gamma radiation spike that would trigger a radiological alarm within the Battlestar. Burmeister looked at the readout on her screen before reporting, "Gamma radiation levels limited to background readings only, sir."

"That means their nukes haven't gone hot," added Dytto. "Could this be for real?"

"I'm not taking any chances!" growled Bowman who then lifted the handset back up to his ear before hitting the transmit button. "Faststar Eurylade this is Hermes-Actual, alter your heading to two-zero-zero carom one-zero!" Listening to the instructions Bowman was giving the Eurylade, Burmeister saw that the new heading would put the Faststar on a parallel course to Hermes therefore putting the Battlestar out of the firing line of any missiles aboard the warship but would also give the Hermes gunners a bigger silhouette to aim at. "If you do not comply with these demands we will regard you as a hostile vessel and will fire upon you!"

Listening to the tone in his voice there was no doubt in anyone's mind in the CIC that Bowman meant every word. He was totally prepared to destroy that ship, the first Colonial Warship they had seen since the battle above Picon the day the bombing of the colonies began.

The handset crackled into life once more as a transmission was received. There was a gentle giggle before the woman spoke again, "Same old Artimus. Very well Hermes-Actual, we will comply with your demands."

Bowman and Dytto both looked upwards at the overhanging DRADIS screen. There was the Eurylade positioned between the Battlestar Hermes and the debris field. They waited with baited breath to see what the ship would do. Bowman wasn't sure which he would have preferred to happen; it continue on towards them thus revealing it to be a Cylon trap or it complies and this could very well be genuine. Several long and frustrating seconds passed before suddenly the nose of the Eurylade tilted to starboard. It continued to do so until it became clear that the Eurylade was following the instructions it had received.

"They're cooperating!" said Dytto in open mouthed surprise. An air of excitement began to fill the CIC at the prospect of having found one of their brothers-in-arms however it failed to grab hold of Bowman who stared at the blip on the DRADIS screen as it positioned itself alongside the Hermes. "So who is she?"

Bowman looked at Dytto trying to give his XO an answer but all he could muster as he prepared to send more instructions to the Eurylade was, "Someone who should be dead!" Bowman pressed transmit once again and spoke through the microphone. "Faststar Eurylade; prepare to receive a Raptor."

"I've got a nice bottle of Virgon Brandy waiting over here for when you arrive, 'Ace'," came the rather joking reply which only seemed to anger Bowman further as he returned the handset to the Operations Desk.

Dytto turned to Durand and ordered, "Have the Hangar Deck ready a Raptor and order Callisto to assemble a Marine boarding party. Full tactical gear."

"Aye sir," replied Durand.

"Belay that order!" interjected Bowman loudly. Durand and Dytto both looked back over at him waiting for an alternative command from their CO who was leaning against the Operations Desk pondering something deeply. When one failed to materialize after several seconds Dytto walked over to him and they spoke in hushed voices so that no one else could hear what they were saying. "Have a Raptor made ready. No Marines. No pilots."

"Sir?" asked Dytto looking for confirmation.

"I'm going to fly it over there and assess the situation myself," explained Bowman.

"Who is this woman?" asked Dytto annoyed that Bowman was being rather cryptic about the situation. Bowman saw this in Dytto's face and decided to elaborate enough for his XO to have a little more understanding. "Her name is Galit Malka. She's MOI. I was on a mission with her six years ago. The mission was classified compartmentalized due to the sensitive political nature of it. During the mission I…I became close to her."

"Hmm," murmured Dytto knowing what that meant and taking some amusement from it. "You old dog. But you said she was supposed to be dead?"

"She volunteered to stay behind and cover our withdrawal just as the base we had infiltrated was being bombed by the Fleet. She was reported as a confirmed KIA."

"Well if that's the case then this could very well be a trap designed specifically for you."

"I am aware of that," said Bowman. "That's why I am going. I'm not going to have any of my pilots or Marines killed because of me. I want you to take command of the ship in my absence."

In truth, Dytto felt a little flattered that Bowman was entrusting him with Hermes given their past. Maybe this was him finally laying that past to rest?

"Yes sir," said Dytto quietly. "But what if this _is_ a trap?"

"If I haven't contacted you in one hour you're orders are to open fire. No questions asked. However if before then I contact you and give you the codeword…" Bowman thought for a second before coming up with his honorary niece's name. "Lacey! If you don't hear that codeword from me by then assume I'm dead or otherwise incapacitated. Understood?"

"Perfectly," said Dytto. "I suppose, good luck is all that's left to say," said Dytto as he held out his hand for what could very well be the last time he saw Bowman alive. It was a gesture that emphasized the seriousness of the situation to Bowman and he wasn't quite prepared for it. He took Dytto's hand and shook it once. "I know you don't believe in them but may the God's go with you."

Bowman nodded a quick thank you to his XO before stepping out of the CIC and making his way down to the Hangar Deck. There was no way he could be sure of what was waiting for him when he boarded that ship. He was truly stepping into the unknown.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Port Hangar Deck**

With safety marshals either side of it watching its progress, the Raptor prepared for Bowman was guided onto the number three decklift that would be used to raise it up to the Landing Deck from where it would take off. Chief Imlay stood aside watching his deckgang as they positioned it onto the decklift ready for the Commander.

The Hangar deck was alive with activity as pilots readied their Vipers and Raptors to launch at a moments notice. The Hermes was still at Condition One preparing for anything. Although the Hangar Deck looked chaotic to the casual observer it was in fact a well orchestrated scene where everyone and everything was in its place.

To Imlay and his deckgang the biggest headaches these days were the lack of spare parts and the increasing need to cannibalize Vipers and Raptors to keep the best examples active. The Hermes air wing had now dwindled down to around a third of its pre-war size due to combat attrition or fatigue on the airframes. Imlay knew that while this side of the Hangar Deck looked like it normally did on the other side of the ship things were quite different. Because the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis was still occupying the Landing Deck in the Starboard Hangar Pod, Imlay had decided to consolidate operational efforts on the Port Hangar Deck to increase turnaround speed. The Starboard Hangar Deck was increasingly starting to look like a junkyard with hulks of Vipers and Raptors littering the length of the pod. It was a sad state of affairs for the proud ship and her crew.

With the marshals satisfied that the Raptor was securely in place on the decklift the yellow tractor that had towed the craft was decoupled from the little ship and driven away leaving it to wait for its pilot to arrive. Knowing that he could trust his team to keep everything in order Imlay stepped over to the Raptor and began walking around it one last time performing a visual check. He walked around the rear of the craft and peered into each engine exhausts checking for any obstructions before moving onto the numerous maneuvering thrusters that peppered the hull.

"How's she looking, Chief?" asked Bowman as he walked over to him still wearing his duty uniform having come straight from the CIC. The only thing he had changed since leaving the CIC was the addition of a sidearm placed in a holster on his belt. Bowman reasoned that there was little point in wearing the standard gold environmental flight suit since if this was a Cylon trap the chances of survival were slim at best.

"Like she's waiting for her prom date to pick her up sir," said Imlay. That was his way of telling Bowman that the Raptor was ready to go.

Artimus took the lead with the checks as the two of them walked around the craft looking for anything that was out of place but as he had come to expect from his Deck Chief the ship was in as good a working order as it ever could be given their situation. Once the external checks were completed Bowman clambered up the wing of the Raptor towards the open hatch leading into the main cabin.

"Follow me a minute would you Chief?" said Bowman signaling for Imlay to come inside with him.

Imlay climbed up behind Bowman and followed him inside the main cabin. Bowman seemed to check outside to see of anyone was in earshot before he spoke to Imlay. Imlay, who trusted his team implicitly, couldn't help but feel a little offended by this but knew that if Bowman didn't want anyone listening in then he had good reason not to. For his own part, Bowman wasn't sure himself why he didn't want anyone else listening in but it seemed a prudent precaution given that they now had evidence that Hermes had been compromised by the Cylons.

"What is it, sir?" asked Imlay confused.

"This Faststar," began Bowman. "The Commander's name is Malka."

"Malka!" gasped Imlay who hadn't heard that name spoken since he had participated in the mission with Bowman six years earlier. "As in _Lieutenant_ Malka?"

"Yea, the same one," uttered Bowman quietly as if he was trying not to believe it himself.

"Sir, Malka is dead! She died when the fleet bombed the SLA base into dust. If someone aboard that ship is claiming to be her then it has to be a Cylon trap of some kind aimed at you."

"I've already had this discussion with the XO," interjected Bowman. "Nevertheless I've decided to go. I guess I'm asking you what your gut feeling is about this? I can't seem to trust my own at the moment."

Imlay thought for a brief second before answering the question. He leaned against the wall of the main cabin with his left arm and rubbed his face as if to clear his head. "Well sir, we all knew how you felt about her. She was something special but her having survived the base being bombed and then somehow surviving the destruction of the colonies as well; that's too much for me to comprehend. If you want my honest answer then I am of the opinion that this is a trap, sir. We need to know more before you go running in."

Bowman listened carefully to what Imlay had to say and had to agree that on the surface of things it did seem that way but there was something he was holding back from both Dytto and Imlay. It was a mysterious letter he had received on the day he got married to Brooke claiming to be from Galit Malka. The letter gave him her blessing for their union as man and wife and Bowman had suspected that the letter was in fact from Tolan to help put the past behind him; Scott having denied this vigorously when he confronted him. Perhaps if he hadn't received that letter then he may have taken the advice of Dytto and Imlay but because it existed something was telling him to go over to that ship. That was why he didn't trust his gut feeling. It flew in the face of his logic which had almost always had veto over his heart in matters such as this but because it was Galit Malka he knew he couldn't just ignore it or wait for further proof. He had to know for his own sake.

"Thank you chief," said Bowman in a tone that dismissed his Deck Chief.

"Yes sir," acknowledged Imlay who knew that there was no point arguing his opinion further. Bowman had made up his mind and no one was going to change it.

With Imlay disembarked from the Raptor Bowman closed the hatch and sealed it up before walking forwards to the cockpit. Bowman climbed into the pilot's seat of the Raptor and immediately a flood of memories consumed him as the bulk of his career seemed to flash through his mind's eye from his very first day of Raptor pilot training right up to the last day he ever flew a Raptor as a pilot; the day he left his post on Caprica as an instructor to become the Executive Officer of the Battlestar Cerberus.

After getting comfortable he reached over his right shoulder and proceeded to pull the harness straps over him before fastening them up at the front. He hooked the one-piece speaker and microphone over his right ear and blew in it to test that it was working. The result was a sound similar to a strong wind in his earlobe. Now that he was securely fastened in he began his final checks ready for flight. Although it had been several months since he had last flown a Raptor it all came back to him and he went through the checks as though it had been earlier that morning.

"Atmosphere; normal. Climate generator; normal. Navigational DRADIS; set for shortrange. Maneuvering thruster control interface check; go-for-flight. Maneuvering thrusters; set to 'ARM'. Start 1; output normal. Start 2; output normal." The Raptor was now ready for flight. He pushed the transmit button for the wireless system in order to speak to the traffic control room whose job it was to organize all Vipers and Raptors whilst in the Hangar Pod. Once the skids left the Landing Deck it was under the control of the CIC. "Port control this is 'Archer'!" Bowman grinned nostalgically as he announced his callsign. "Request ascent to Landing Deck on Lift 3?"

"'Archer', Port Control, you are cleared to ascend on Lift 3."

The ground below him shook slightly as the decklift began to rise upwards. Bowman peered out through the side window and saw Imlay looking back watching the Raptor rising upwards. Reflected in his Deck Chief's eyes were Bowman's own misgivings about what he was undertaking. The roof of the Hangar Deck passed the cockpit and the Chief disappeared.

The Raptor came to a stop in a chamber between the Hangar Deck and the Landing Deck. The Raptor was soon engulfed in a red light, warning that the atmosphere inside the small space was being removed from the chamber thus allowing the little ship to be raised further up to the Landing Deck. The whole process took only seven seconds to complete and was signaled by the shutter above sliding open. The decklift started moving upwards once more. Bowman suddenly went from the confined space of the chamber up into the immense open Landing Deck. Inside the Landing Deck was one of the few places you can truly gauge the size of the Hermes. Being in this section of the ship always reminded Bowman of the Pyramid Stadium in Caprica City with its high sided walls making him feel quite insignificant.

The decklift finally stopped and the Port side Traffic Control Officer handed control over to the CIC.

"Hermes this is 'Archer' requesting clearance for departure?"

Expecting Durand to acknowledge him Bowman raised his right eyebrow as it was Dytto's voice that crackled in his headset.

"'Archer' you are cleared for departure. Gods speed you."

"Roger that Hermes," said Bowman as he placed his hands and feet on the controls. He pulled back the control column in his right hand and the Raptor lifted up off the magnetized deck. Having risen ten feet from the deck he pushed the control forwards and the thrusters counteracted the upward motion of the Raptor holding it in place. The Raptor was free of its mother ship and was now its own spacecraft. Bowman felt in his element, like he was becoming reacquainted with a dear old friend and he almost forgot what exactly it was he was doing. The opportunity to fly a Raptor once more provided a welcome escape for the Commander even if only for a few minutes.

Artimus 'Archer' Bowman applied the forward throttle and the Raptor surged forward hovering over the deck at a stable height from the deck. Once he passed between the double white flight markings that ran the length of the Landing Deck like a long straight highway he killed the forward power, applied right yaw and the Raptor appeared to slide momentarily as the thrusters automatically compensated before he reapplied forward thrust and the Raptor surged forwards.

The roof of the Hangar Pod passed overhead followed soon after by the lip of the deck. Having cleared the Hangar Pod he pulled upwards relative to Hermes and half rolled over the top of the immense Battlestar. This was the first time he had seen his ship from the outside in over a month and a half. It was a sad sight to behold. Even in the low light of space the scars and burns along the hull from battling the Cylons could be made out by Bowman's naked eye.

"I'm sorry old friend," he uttered to himself as he continued to examine the ship. Being a boxer in his Academy days Bowman likened his ship to a fighter in between matches; it was hurting but it was in better shape than some of those who had gone up against it. Hermes was the God of mischief, flight and was messenger for Zeus and in a roundabout way the Battlestar was aptly fulfilling those roles in its continuing war with the Cylons. It's message; we are still here.

The Raptor passed over the Starboard Hangar Pod and was now clear of the Battlestar as it began the transit to the Eurylade. With the Hermes behind him Bowman looked forwards at the colonial warship that now dominated his thoughts. Just what was he going to find aboard that ship? If Galit was alive what was he going to say to her? He felt he had changed immensely since the Valkyrie so how would she have changed? These were just a fraction of the questions that were running through his mind.

The Eurylade grew closer and Bowman could now see its distinctive shark-like outline thanks largely to the blue glow of its five sublight engines at the rear of the vessel. Like Hermes there were scars from battle with the Cylons along the hull of the Eurylade but the ship seemed in good condition. He looked down at the navigational DRADIS screen and saw that he was approaching a distance of two kilometers from the ship. It was time to make it known he was coming aboard.

"Eurylade this is 'Archer', request permission for hands-on docking from your upper port side?"

Bowman waited with baited breath for the response half expecting to hear her voice once more. Instead he heard a male voice come through on the wireless. Although he couldn't quite put a face to it he did suspect he had heard it before.

"Roger 'Archer', you're cleared to dock on the forward upper docking port. We're activating our approach beacon and visual aids...now."

A beeping sound emanated from the console infront of him indicating that he was receiving the approach signal that would guide the Raptor to its docking port on the dorsal hull of the Faststar near the centre of the ship. The Faststars of the Colonial Fleet were always intended to be able to operate with a small number of parasite Vipers or Raptors for extended operations away from the fleet or to act as mini-escort carriers. As Bowman positioned his Raptor on the approach path being transmitted from the Eurylade he could see a series of four inward strobing lights arranged in an X around the docking hatch. This was his visual aid should there be anything wrong with the approach beacon such as not being calibrated properly.

Bowman flew the approach path flawlessly and positioned the Raptor over the hatch. Having checked that he was indeed positioned perfectly over the hatch by using the strobing lights as a reference to match the data being sent from the beacon he pushed the left control stick forward to give a brief downward burst from the thrusters that lasted barely a third of a second. The Raptor began to lower down onto the Eurylade. The skids connected with the hull and cushioned the landing. Just like on the Landing Decks of the Hermes the Eurylade had magnetized plates to hold the skids down and secure the Raptor to the Faststar.

"Eurylade; confirmed good seal of skid. I'm extending the umbilical."

"Roger 'Archer', we're preparing to receive you," said the male voice.

Bowman highlighted the docking options menu on his console's multi-function screen and selected to extend the umbilical. Upon the command being selected a plate on the ventral hull of the Raptor slid across to reveal the short umbilical that began to extend downwards and seal against the hull of the Eurylade. Its full extended length was barely half a meter due to the very short ground clearance afforded to a Raptor. With the screen reading that it had a good seal he selected the environmental systems to pump atmosphere into what was effectively a very thick tube that linked the two vessels together. It took only a few seconds until the symbol for the umbilical turned from red to green indicating it was safe to use.

Bowman removed the earpiece and unfastened his harness. He took a deep cleansing breath before he stood up and proceeded back into the main cabin behind the cockpit. Just behind the ECM station he knelt down and squeezed his fingers into the grove in the deck plate and curved them around the handle. He turned it one hundred and thirty degrees to the right and it clicked loudly indicating it was unlocked.

He pulled it upwards on its hinges to reveal the hatch underneath that lead to the umbilical tube. A small green light was illuminated beside it which acted as a confirmation that the atmosphere on the other side was breathable. Kneeling down further he grasped the heavy round handle and twisted it through almost a full turn until it could go no further. He pulled the heavy hatch upwards revealing the umbilical tube underneath at the bottom of which was the Eurylade hatch. He continued to pull the hatch upwards until it fell to the opposite side allowing access downwards without him holding it any longer.

Bowman stood back upwards and reached down for his sidearm that sat perched in its holster. He removed the safety and cocked the pistol. With his arms extended out straight he looked down the barrel of the pistol pointed at the Eurylade hatch at the bottom of the umbilical. He didn't know how effective the weapon would be if he found himself staring at a Centurion when the hatch opened. In all likelihood if there were Centurions behind the hatch waiting for him then the pistol would do little and in a few moments he would be dead.

The umbilical tube echoed with the sound of metal sliding against metal. The hatch of the Eurylade was being opened from the other side. Bowman prepared himself as best he could; placing his finger on the trigger guard so that he didn't fire accidentally but was in position to fire quickly should he need to. The sliding sound continued to echo up through the tube for three seconds when it was replaced by a loud clunking sound. Unlike the Raptor hatch which was hinged the Eurylade hatch began to drop several inches before sliding to the right.

Bowman stared down the barrel of the pistol at whatever was to be revealed below. The Hatch moved completely to the side to reveal a ladder running down the access tube into the ship. On the ladder Bowman could see the top of a man's head and his shoulders. The man had very dark short hair. He looked up and into Bowman's eyes across the gun barrel.

"That's not very polite, Bowman," said the man. "Boarding someone else's ship at the point of a gun I mean."

Bowman's arms weakened and lowered the pistol in open mouthed shock.

"Keene Barron!" he gasped. "My Gods!"

Bowman returned the safety to ON before returning his pistol to the holster. Bowman examined Keene's face comparing it to the mental image he had of the man he met six years ago during the Valkyrie mission. Keene looked older with several days' worth of facial hair and tired looking eyes.

"It's good to see you again," said Keene holding out his hand of friendship. Bowman accepted it and the two of them shook firmly. "Would you like to come aboard the Eurylade?"

Bowman, still aghast, nodded once. Keene began to climb back down the ladder allowing Bowman to place his legs over the side of the hatch and climb down behind him. It was a short climb down before the tube gave way to an open corridor inside the ship. Having stepped off the ladder Bowman took a look around. The corridor was located just behind the bridge of the ship and was not as wide or as tall as on a Battlestar. Bowman could see into the bridge and saw four crewmembers manning their stations.

"Welcome aboard," said Keene.

"Thank you," replied Bowman still rather unsure that this was not some crazy dream he was having in his rack. More than anything he was unsure how to react to Keene. It had been Keene Barron who had told him Galit was 'confirmed' dead following the bombing of the SLA base and as he stood before him now six years later he began to suspect that Keene had deliberately lied to him that day.

Keene could see this in Bowman's eyes and said, "I suppose you want to see her?" Bowman nodded in quite an intimidating way. Keene returned a look that told Bowman he wouldn't have blamed him if he punched the MOI agent to the floor and this confirmed to Bowman that Keene did lie to him that day. Now wasn't the time for that discussion however. "She's waiting for you in her cabin. Follow me and I'll show you where it is."

The two of them began walking down the corridor away from the bridge, both men in total silence. They passed two additional crewmen of the Eurylade and it was then Bowman noticed their unusual one piece grey uniforms. They were not the usual attire of a Faststar crew and given that Keene Barron and Galit Malka were apparently the most senior crew aboard the ship that left one conclusion in his mind.

"You're all Ministry of Intelligence?" he asked.

"That's correct," replied Keene.

"How did you get your hands on a Faststar? I don't suppose I need to point out that under the Articles of Colonization the MOI is forbidden from operating military vessels."

Keene smiled slightly implying Bowman was being quite naïve. "I'll let Major Malka explain it to you. She's the CO. Here we are." They stopped outside a door that had the letters 'CO' on a small plate positioned at the average person's eye level. "She's waiting inside for you. She thought it better you talk in private first."

"Thank you," said Bowman paying lip service to politeness.

"Bowman," said Keene before discretely clearing his throat to speak more clearly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to tell you she was dead. It was…an order that I had to obey."

Bowman nodded his acknowledgement to the apology but was unsure if he accepted it or not just yet. Keene turned back towards the direction of the bridge and walked away leaving Bowman alone. He rather nervously lifted his hand up and knocked three times on the door.

"Come in 'Ace'," called out the woman's voice from inside. Bowman had been told about his distinctive knock and no matter how much he tried to conceal it in the past people always identified it. The woman inside knew his knock. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. He took another deep breath to calm his nerves before stepping inside.

Galit Malka stood on the opposite end of the room with the upper half of her grey jumpsuit wrapped around her waist to reveal her darker grey tank top. Her arms were folded in front of her and she looked at his shocked face with the cheeky smile he once knew.

"Close the door!" she said softly.

Bowman complied and soon they were sealed from the rest of the ship inside Galits' cabin. It was a small room nothing near as big as his own quarters on Hermes. There was a bunk on the right and a desk on the left while Galit stood in front of a set of lockers for her personal items such as clothing. As he looked at her he began to notice the striking similarity the room had to Tolan's quarters aboard the Transport Ship Jabin six years ago. It had been in that cabin that they had spent their only night together. It was a cruel reminder of that time that still hurt even though he was now standing face to face with her.

"Well?" she asked after several quiet seconds had passed. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Bowman tried to speak but his mouth had gone dry and his mind turned blank. As a result he forced out the first words that would come no matter what they were.

"You're hair is different," he uttered mundanely. She smiled slightly as he went on, "It was darker last time."

"I used to dye it quite frequently back then. Dirty blond is my natural colour. So is that all you're going to ask me after six years?"

She had opened the door for him to make it easier on the broad shouldered Caprican. Bowman was a physically dominating person but always had difficulty dealing with the strongest of emotions. Right now the shock of seeing her alive was giving way to a surge of mixed emotions. He didn't know if he was happy to see her or furious. The emotions bubbled over and his safety valve burst as his mouth uttered painfully, "Why?"

Galit's smile faded and her eyes fell to the floor before she looked back up at him and said, "I don't suppose telling you it was an operational necessity would cut it? I had my reasons for letting everyone on the mission think that I was dead, some professional and some personal."

"Except for Keene," said Bowman with a hint of bitterness.

"Don't be angry with him 'Ace', he is a good man and a damn fine officer. I ordered him not to tell you." Her arms dropped to the side and she walked slowly towards him. "I will explain everything in time. Just-Just let it all go for a few minutes." She moved to give him a friendly hug but Bowman quickly recoiled quite defensively. At first she thought it was anger aimed at her but then she noticed it was something else. It was mistrust. He didn't seem to believe this was real. "What's the matter? Don't you trust your eyes?"

"I don't know yet. Part of me still thinks this could be a Cylon deception."

"Funny," she said looking at the skin on her arms. "Do I look like a Cylon?"

"That doesn't prove anything," he said. "We've learned that the Cylons look Human now. We don't know if it's genetic engineering or…"

"Or what?" she asked.

"Or cloning?" he said giving her a possible explanation that was in his mind about how she was here in the flesh before him.

She smiled in amusement. "Keene was right about you. You would have made an excellent MOI agent. You have just enough paranoia to stay alive." She walked back over to her desk and reached inside the top drawer for a small bottle of Virgon Brandy. It was exactly the same as the one they had drunk in a hotel on Virgon but Bowman remained skeptical. That was no proof. "You see I happen to know a few things about cloning. One thing I do know is that it's quite easy to clone a human being. It can be a perfect genetic copy to the original but the one thing you can't clone is the electrical impulses in the brain that retain memories. It's not a physical aspect of the body so the DNA can't retain them. Now with that in mind let me ask you this; were you ever court martialed for breaking into my quarters and reading Tolan's file on the Valkyrie?" She leaned in closer to him with the bottle and handed it to him before she whispered seductively, "Or how about the fact that you like it when I…" She stopped just inches from his face before turning away from him and chuckling once in amusement.

Bowman seemed to boil over in fury but it quickly subsided. He now genuinely believed that she wasn't a Cylon. There was something about her that he felt he was linking to and it cancelled out his suspicion. She was the only one who knew about his unauthorized access to her quarters and the file on Tolan aboard the Valkyrie. It had in fact been a trap she had set up specifically for him.

With his mind a little more at ease he decided to take her up on the offer of a drink. He took just one sip of it if only to moisten his throat before he placed it down on her desk.

"You don't seem surprised about the Cylons?" he asked noticing her lack of reaction to the news.

She curled her lips forward as she pondered something before she said, "It does answer a few questions I have about the attack on the colonies. The MOI had suspected that Cylon sympathizers were trying to infiltrate key areas of our defenses such as Industry sources but we had no idea that they were _making_ Human Cylons."

"We know that one was responsible for killing the people aboard a Colonial Heavy Liner we have retrieved called the Alexis. She opened the hatch and spaced everyone including herself."

"Retrieved?" she asked with her eyebrows curving with interest. "You mean you have the ship?"

"Yes. It's docked on our Starboard Landing Deck. I don't know what I plan to do with it yet but I felt it would premature to strip it for parts and set it adrift just yet."

She stood up in an almost excited fashion before asking, "Is the FTL operational?"

"Yes, why?"

"Our FTL was damaged in an attack by Raiders. We've been traveling at sublight ever since. We were hoping to salvage parts from that wreck out there but they aren't compatible with our systems but a Heavy Liner just might be. And time is of the essence."

"Why?" asked Bowman who was beginning to realize that while Faster-Than-Light drives were the answer to crossing the vast distances of space they were temperamental things that were easily rendered useless.

"A few hours ago we splashed two Cylon 'Bloodsuckers' that were snooping around the wreckage. It's only a matter of time before they come looking for their missing ships."

"Gods damn it!" cursed Bowman at the prospect of the Cylons discovering them having only just lost those pursuing Hermes. "If that's the case we should seriously consider evacuating your crew to the Hermes and leaving Eurylade. We'll take anything vital but…"

"We can't do that!" shot Galit sternly. "This ship is important."

"Look, I know all about Commander's pride in his or her ship but-"

"No you don't understand, this ship is on a mission of the utmost importance and I intend to complete it but for that I will need your help. I need the FTL from the Alexis and we don't have much time to install it."

**

* * *

Cylon Baseship  
Seven Jumps Away**

The Baseship had been assigned an immense area of space to patrol with its Raiders. In the days following the initial attack on the colonies the disposition of these Baseships had been quite dense as they cleared up what remaining colonial ships were left but as time went on and the number of survivors dwindled so too did the number of Baseships involved in 'Bloodsucker' operations with their Raiders whose missions became longer and longer in duration.

A Baseship works like the immense machine it is. Everything has its place and purpose all arranged to perfectly operate in unison and when something falls out of its place the effect is felt throughout the ship causing it to react instantly.

Two of its Raiders were late returning from a mission and the Baseship reacted accordingly. The alert Raiders swooped out of their mothership and began to form up into three groups of eight along with two Heavy Raiders for support. Each group was assigned to reconnoiter a specific section of the missing Raiders patrol route to speed up the chances of finding them since they were yet to download into new bodies. This was not unusual given the vast distances the patrols were now being carried out from.

Once each group was organized properly they began to disappear in brilliant white flashes of light as their advanced Cylon FTL drives engaged transporting them across space in the blink of an eye.


	7. Chapter 7

**Faststar Eurylade**  
**Galit Malka's Quarters**

Artimus Bowman had finally been persuaded to sit down. He pulled out the chair that was tucked under Galit's desk and slowly lowered himself down on to it before Galit sat opposite him on her bunk. She took the opportunity to study him as he rubbed his face almost in disbelief at what was happening and who he was with. It was as if he were still expecting to wake up at any moment and find this had all been one crazy dream. One thing she noted in particular was how much he had aged in the face while at the same time she remembered him being bigger built than he was now.

"You've lost weight," she said quietly whilst airing a tone of concern.

Bowman hadn't really noticed this himself and as he looked down at his duty jacket, he saw for the first time that in several places around the gut it was beginning to bunch up as he sat.

"Stress and tight food rationing will do that to you," he uttered while discretely checking the time on the clock that was fixed to the wall next to the desk, something she of course noticed with her well trained eye. It was coming up to forty five minutes since his Raptor had departed Hermes and it was fast approaching the one hour mark for him to check in with Dytto.

"So you're still carrying the weight of the twelve worlds on your shoulders?" she asked in a joking kind of way.

"No just one world," he replied to which she raised an inquisitive left eyebrow. "Hermes. That's my world now. So tell me more about this mission of yours that you seem so hell bent on finishing."

"It's a long story," she replied, grinning as she devilishly hinted that she knew he didn't have time to hear it in full. "How long until you have to check in with Hermes? You've been trying to stealthily watch the clock since you got in here. And since Hermes' guns are still squarely pointed at my ship I can only assume that you left instructions with your XO to fire on us if you didn't report back at a predetermined time."

Bowman grinned in amusement. "I guess I should have known better than to try and deceive the Ministry of Intelligence's best field agent."

"And you should know that flattery wont get you anywhere…Commander Bowman," she replied. "_Commander_ Bowman. It has a nice ring to it although I was pleased to hear that it was 'Archer' who was flying the Raptor. Just like old times huh? So, how long until Hermes blows us away?"

"Just under fifteen minutes. That gives you enough time to at least tell me the story of how you got your hands on a Faststar and survived the attack on the colonies."

"Hmm, well played," she murmured with a grin. "Alright then. To answer your first question; the MOI has had the Eurylade for almost five years now. It's used for covert intelligence operations of which there are too many to list at the moment. As for the legality of it, well, the President knew but as for the Quorom; it didn't really concern them. Y'know, our little mission to rescue the President's sister and niece is really one of the reasons why the MOI has this ship. The SLA and terrorist organizations like it proved they were getting bolder and better organized with their activities. For five years this ship has been on the frontline of the war against terrorism and organized crime across the twelve colonies. In fact we were tracking a shipment of weapons being smuggled off Tauron to Gemenon when the Cylons hit. We had hoped to catch them making the transfer with the Gemonese ship so we could find out who they were intended for. Unfortunately, that was when we got word of the Cylon attack."

She paused for a short breath before she continued.

"Our orders were to destroy the two ships and proceed to Tauron to help with the defence. So that's what we did. In the last message we got from MOI headquarters on Picon before we lost contact we had heard about a new Cylon weapon that was being used to disable the fleet. We were to hold off and observe the Cylon forces as they engaged the ships defending Tauron and try to determine what type of weapon was being used and any way to defeat it. We rigged for silent running and just watched and listened…

* * *

**40 Days Earlier**  
**Tauron**

…_There were four Battlestars and several smaller vessels over the northern pole when they attacked. One of the Battlestars was your old ship the Cerberus._

Like giants the four Battlestars including the heavily modified Cylon War-era Cerberus held their battle formation over the colony looking every bit the mighty weapons of war that they were. Vipers swarmed around them like flies along with large numbers of Raptors either providing electronic warfare support or adding additional firepower to the fleet courtesy of their heavy fighter configuration.

_As they had done over Caprica, Gemenon and Picon the Cylons just appeared out of nowhere and in huge numbers. Communications immediately became unreliable between the ships of the fleet due to jamming._

The Cylon fleet was so large that it almost eclipsed the sun as they flew in a tight defensive formation before breaking up into five separate groups in order to surround the Colonial forces. The Colonials knew that their best chance was to keep their own formation together and combine their firepower. Since numbers weren't on their side then to split up was like asking for the Cylons to surround them and pound them with missile after missile.

_That's when it happened. We detected some kind of beam being radiated towards the ships. It was only later we identified the signal hidden inside it. _

The hulls of the Colonial Fleet ships sparkled red momentarily. One can only speculate how the crews and pilots of those ships must have felt as their systems shut down one by one for no apparent reason just as the Cylons were about to attack. Their last few seconds spent inside darkened and powerless warships must have been of absolute terror. A terror that cannot be put into words for someone who has never experienced that kind of fear to understand properly.

The immense formations of warships became floating tombs as the Cylons began their barrage. Missile after missile rained down on the formation of Battlestars while Raiders casually picked off Vipers and Raptors, destroying them at will. All the twenty five thousand men and women in the Colonial Fleet warships could do was sit, pray and then wait for the inevitable.

The Cerberus was unlucky enough to receive a missile hit on the Landing Deck of the port Hangar Pod. As the weapon ignited in a brilliant flash it caused the Hangar Pod to explode into two pieces that broke free from the main ship and began a descent towards the planet below. Finally, under the intense barrage, the back of the Cerberus was broken and her decks began to crumble. Oxygen vented from numerous holes inside sealed compartments thus suffocating many of her crew before they were either killed in additional explosions or were vented out into space as the ship broke apart.

No longer viewing the Cerberus as a threat the Cylons turned their full attention on the remaining Battlestars before they too went the same way as their comrade. With the fleet now gone and ground based defenses inoperative the Cylons were left to begin their annihilation of the Tauron population.

_It was a slaughter.

* * *

_

**Faststar Eurylade**  
**Galit Malka's Quarters**  
**Present Day**

"We saw something similar over Picon," added Bowman. "About eighteen hours before the attack started a pressure valve blew damaging our computer core, effectively shutting Hermes down. We had to rebuild it from scratch and that was when we found the virus hidden in the new CNP program we'd had installed during our refit. We tried to get back to warn the fleet but it was too late."

"Like I said," added Galit. "We only learned about the virus after we analyzed what we had observed over Tauron and found the hidden signal. It took us a few hours to find exactly where it was in our own systems but before that I had every single interlinking wire on the ship physically severed since the Cylons could clearly bypass all our firewalls. It was actually during an attack by a pair of Raiders that tried to use the virus against us that we found out it was in our navigational program."

"So then what did you do?" asked Bowman whose mind went back to all the friends and colleagues he knew had perished aboard Cerberus. Deep down he had always known that they were, in all likelihood, dead but to have it confirmed was a painful reminder of the universe he now occupied.

"Over the next few hours we tried to establish communications with…well anyone really. The Cylons were doing their best to make that as difficult as possible. We detected one garbled message from Commander Adama aboard the Galactica but we couldn't quite make it out. We picked up a few MOI signals that came to nothing. We even picked up a few signals regarding our old friend, Scott Tolan, but again Cylon jamming prevented us from making contact. Besides I don't think Tolan would be too pleased to see me."

"Oh!" gasped Bowman in surprise. "Why not?"

"The clock is ticking 'Ace'. We don't have a lot of time," she said clearly deferring his question. "It wasn't until the fleet was all but gone that we finally got a signal through to someone. One of our Deputy Directors had survived the bombing and was effectively in command of whatever was left of our once illustrious organization. He was on Libran and we had orders to proceed there immediately before the Cylons occupied the colony. We thought it would be a pick-up for him but we were wrong. Seems he had found a spine and was going to start training resistance groups to fight the Cylons. Instead we picked up a few mission specialists of a sort and were given orders to proceed out here to a remote outpost hidden inside 'Big Red'."

"What the hell has the MOI got hidden all the way out here?" asked Bowman incredulously.

"Weapons!" she replied. "_Special_ weapons. Ones that I'm sure Hermes could use. My orders are to bring these weapons back to the colonies and use them to continue the fight."

"What kind of weapons?"

"Advanced weapons," was her reply. Bowman wasn't satisfied with this answer however.

"Advanced weapons? Galit, you're avoiding the question. What kind of weapons are they?"

The two of them stared deeply into one another's eyes as they picked apart the other's soul. Bowman's eyes were ones of mistrust. One thing he had learned quickly about Galit Malka six years ago was that she was someone who liked to stay two steps ahead of everyone else no matter what she was doing. She hated being at a disadvantage and so was always careful not to reveal everything in one go. He knew she was keeping something from him. Perhaps it was more than one thing, he couldn't be sure. Her eyes gave away nothing about the mission but he did notice something as he looked at her. It took him a few moments to identify it but he soon recognized that what he was seeing in her as they looked at one another was disbelief. Disbelief in that here they were together again after six years and despite all the horror that had happened to bring them there she was at some level happy it had happened.

A klaxon began wailing interrupting Bowman's train of thought but Galit didn't even flinch as the sound reverberated around the room.

"Hermes?" she asked keeping her eyes locked firmly on him.

He looked up at the clock and saw he still had seven minutes left. It was of course possible that Dytto was getting impatient and demanding to speak with him in order to hear the codeword. There was only one way to find out.

Galit calmly stood up from her bunk and made her way towards the door followed by Bowman. She led him all the way forward to the bridge of the Eurylade which was a hive of commotion. Unlike the CIC on a Battlestar the bridge of a Faststar is more conventional in its layout.

It's a small compartment being only eight meters by nine meters. At the front and to the left was the helm and a navigational station immediately next to it. On the immediate right as Bowman walked in was an extensive communication station. To his surprise he recognized the person manning it as Chad Teuton who had served with him aboard the Cerberus. Bowman was curious to find out why he was now aboard an MOI ship but he knew that would have to wait for another time so the two of them just shared a slight nod of acknowledgement as they saw one another.

Boxed in just behind the helm was what appeared to be an engineering station which monitored the ship's systems while immediately adjacent to it was the weapons station. Perched in the middle of the comparatively cramped control room was the Captain's chair that was occupied by Keene Barron until Galit entered.

"Report!" she ordered as she entered the bridge and took her seat. Keene stood faithfully beside her while Bowman watched from the back of the room.

"A Cylon formation just jumped in," reported Keene. "Ten in total including two heavies. They're on an attack vector."

"Ma'am," interjected Teuton who was listening to a broadcast over the wireless. Galit turned and listened as he went on to explain, "Hermes is demanding to speak with Commander Bowman or they are threatening to fire upon us."

"Give it here!" said Bowman as he rushed over to Teuton.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes**  
**Combat Information Centre**

Having remained at Condition One for over an hour since first sighting the Eurylade the Hermes was as ready as it ever would be for battle. The question that occupied everyone's mind was if the Eurylade was a friend or foe? Had their Commander fallen into a Cylon trap and a part of that trap was this attack?

Durand was repeating his message after the Faststar failed to answer the first time. "Attention Faststar Eurylade this is Battlestar Hermes. Colonel Dytto is demanding to speak to Commander Bowman urgently. If you do not comply with this request we will fire upon you."

Dytto stared intensely at the DRADIS screen as the small swarm of Cylon ships came towards them. Perched between Hermes and the Cylons was the Eurylade.

"What the frak is going on over there?" he uttered impatiently to himself referring to the Eurylade.

"Sir, I've got Commander Bowman on the line!" announced Durand suddenly.

"Put me through!" ordered Dytto as he reached for the telephone handset perched on the side of the Operations Desk as if it were made of solid gold. "This is Dytto!" he announced once he heard the line connect.

"Lacey!" was the only reply from Bowman aboard the Eurylade.

Dytto breathed a sigh of relief. That was the codeword that everything was in order and that the Eurylade was a friendly. "Understood," said Dytto. "We are tracking ten inbound. We're spooling up for an emergency jump. I'll have Durand send you the coordinates over a coded frequency."

"Negative," said Bowman. "The FTL on this Faststar is none operational. You're going to have to provide cover for us while we dock with Hermes and piggy-back through the next jump."

Dytto's heart sank as he found himself for the first time in command of Hermes in a battle scenario without the Commander as a safety net. He had always felt he was confident enough to do so but to actually be faced with the prospect made his legs feel weak.

"That could take a bit of time," said Dytto. "Wouldn't it be quicker to evacuate the ship and leave it?"

"That doesn't seem to be an option," replied Bowman. "I'll explain everything later. Right now you've got a job to do. Clear?"

"Clear," replied Dytto trying to hide the nest of rattle snakes that were now stirring in his stomach.

"You can do this, Caleb," said Bowman suddenly and compassionately. "Trust in our people, that's half the job. The rest you leave up to training."

"Understood, sir."

"Since the Alexis is occupying the Starboard Landing Deck we're going to dock at the number one service access port beneath Hermes," explained Bowman.

"Very well," said Dytto. "I'll make preparations to receive you. Good luck, Commander."

"Good hunting, Colonel. Eurylade; out," replied Bowman before the line went dead. As Dytto put the handset back down onto its holder he looked around and saw everyone's eyes were on him waiting for their orders. He knew if he let them linger on him too long they would see right through him and lose their confidence in his command abilities. Therefore he decided to tackle it the way he always tackled things when it got tough; head on.

He suddenly launched into a verbal attack as the orders flowed from his mouth. "Launch reserve Vipers! Have starboard gun crews switch targets from the Eurylade to the Cylons, selective fire only. Let's not hit our own people out there." Dytto looked up at the DRADIS screen once more to assess the tactical situation. "Have the CAP take up a defensive formation around the Eurylade to provide cover while it docks underneath us. Helm; we're going to need to keep a straight a line as possible to speed up the docking so maintain the thrusters at station keeping. You're going to have to keep an eye on it if ordinance starts hitting us."

"Sir, reserve Vipers are away," reported Durand.

"Have them engage the main force!" bellowed Dytto. "If we can keep them at extreme range then all the better."

* * *

**Cylon Heavy Raider  
On attack vector to Eurylade and Hermes **

The Cylon force consisted of eight standard Raiders and two Heavy Raiders. The two Heavy Raiders had very specific jobs within the small fleet. One of them was an electronic warfare variant known as a 'Spooky' in Colonial Fleet parlance because of its ability to generate false DRADIS readings or 'ghosts' to help conceal the actual main force. In terms of its jamming capability one of these vessels would put a Colonial Raptor to shame. The new Cylon 'Spooky' was just one of the weapons developed as part of the Cylon fall-back plan should the CNP virus have failed to neutralize the Colonial Fleet.

The second Heavy Raider was what the Colonial Fleet would label as a C3 ship; Command, Communications and Control. In effect it was in command of the Cylon force since they were so far away from the bulk of their fleet that the subsequent communication delay would be impractical for conducting operations of this size. Each one of these C3 Heavy Raiders carried a Number Eight model Cylon since it was these models that were the most adept at fleet tactics.

The Number Eight of this particular force sat boxed inside the main cabin of the Raider and was linked up to the other ships using the gelatinous cybernetic interlink that the Cylons used to control their ships. As she analyzed the readings she was receiving she gasped before uttering, "Hermes!"

When she was dispatched on this mission there was always the possibility that Hermes was responsible for their missing Raiders and she had been given clear orders on what to do should she encounter the Battlestar but her Raiders were detecting an additional ship. She analyzed its DRADIS silhouette and recognized it as a Faststar. That was new information to the Cylons. It was their belief that the bulk of the Faststar force had been destroyed along with the rest of the fleet. There was little time for her to ponder the possibilities however. Her force was closing in on the two surviving Colonial Warships and her Raiders needed orders.

She began transmitting over a coded wireless frequency to the Raiders, "Confirm standing instructions regarding Battlestar Hermes; do not fire on the Battlestar without a direct order. You are free to engage Vipers and Raptors. Our primary target is to destroy the Faststar to prevent it assisting Hermes. I shall attempt to make contact with our agent onboard."

Each of the Raiders sent back a faint digitally produced signal to the C3 Heavy Raider. As the signals were received they were delivered to the Eight's brain which deciphered them and in her mind she heard the words, "By your command."

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge**

"Major," said Teuton to Galit whom Bowman was standing beside. "The CAP Vipers from Hermes have taken a defensive posture around us."

"Good," said Bowman. "They're going to cover us while we dock. We need to maneuver the Eurylade in between the valley between the Hangar Pods. We will have to match the speed and heading of Hermes if this is going to work. That hatchway wasn't intended for underway replenishment. The good news is, in order to piggy back through a jump we only need to make contact with the ship. The bad news is that if any Raiders make it through the Vipers and defensive batteries then we are going to be a sitting duck."

It was then that Keene turned away from the DRADIS screen at the tactical station and said, "Yeah but we still got your Raptor on our back."

"I'll take care of that," replied Bowman. "I'll get it back on Hermes and out of the way."

Suddenly the officer manning the Tactical Station interjected, "Sir, you're going to need a backseater." The officer's tone hinted that he was volunteering for the job.

"Are you qualified?" asked Bowman.

"Wranglers all the way, sir," chanted the officer.

"This is Lt. Carlos Gravina," explained Galit. "He's our second officer."

"Alright, you're with me," said Bowman to Gravina. Bowman nodded to Galit before he turned and left the bridge with Gravina close behind.

"Helm; take us down below Hermes," ordered Galit. "Smartly!"

"Yes ma'am," replied the young man manning the helm.

* * *

The dorsal thrusters on the shark-like Faststar with the Raptor on its back fired and the Eurylade was nudged downwards in relation to Hermes. The Vipers from the Battlestar were now formed up and proceeding to engage the Raiders while the defensive batteries that bristled the hull of the mighty Battlestar sat poised to fire on anything that broke through.

With 'Griffon' commanding the Vipers that were to cover the Eurylade it was up to 'Hot Top' to command the main force of Vipers. There were only ten enemy craft compared to their forty-two but they were taking no chances. The Cylons had proven themselves adept at trickery and today would be no exception.

"Ok," she said over the wireless. "Red team will follow me in and engage the heavies. Blue team will cover us and take the…What the frak?"

It was at that moment that the number of Cylon Raiders first trebled then quadrupled.

"Is this for real?" asked 'Slammer' who was on 'Hot Top's port side.

"Hermes this is 'Hot Top'. Can you confirm additional targets are legitimate?"

"Wait one," replied Durand's voice over the wireless.

"Come on for Frak sake!" said 'Slammer' to himself through gritted teeth as the distance between the Vipers and Raiders continued to close.

"Negative 'Hot Top'," came the reply. "According to our readings the additional targets are fake. They must be using a 'spooky'. We will vector you into the genuine targets."

"Roger that," said 'Hot Top'. "All Vipers; weapons free."

The Viper Mark VIIs surged forwards towards the enemy formation. Although Hermes had the sensor power to differentiate between the Raiders and the false ones the Vipers only had a targeting DRADIS which limited their detection power.

The Hermes transmitted another wireless message to the Vipers. This time the voice was of Captain Chloe Burmeister.

"'Hot Top', have your Vipers alter your heading to one-five-zero carom three-five."

"Roger," replied the red headed Viper pilot. "You heard her."

In their offensive formation the Vipers banked to starboard and raised the nose of their ships to head towards the actual Cylon formation who were banking away from them thinking that the Vipers had lost sight of them in amongst all the false DRADIS returns.

As the distance now closed to within weapon range the Vipers entered the formation of fake Raiders. On their screens it appeared as though they were surrounded by enemy forces when in fact the real enemy was still out in front. Even to the veteran pilots of the Battlestar Hermes this was an unnerving experience.

Suddenly a group of Raiders banked wildly to the right and started heading towards the Vipers. This move made it easier to identify them since they were the only ones who weren't flying straight and level.

"We got 'em!" bellowed 'Hot Top'. "Hammer down!"

'Hot Top' and 'Slammer' went full throttle and aggressively maneuvered in to attack the oncoming Raiders. Not wanting to lose them again 'Hot Top' highlighted each of the maneuvering Raiders on her DRADIS screen and selected TRACK. This would mean that her DRADIS would now keep a small green triangular icon over these Raiders that were portrayed on her screen.

She focused on the nearest Raider and with 'Slammer' covering her against counter attack she dived in on top of it. The Raider cut its forward engines and violently maneuvered upwards off its direction of travel to fire at the attacking Vipers. Having predicted this move 'Hot Top' attacked in a sloping rather than direct fashion. She held off firing until the enemy Raider seemed to fill her window. When that happened she squeezed off the trigger and her cannons spewed gunfire into its central hull.

The Raider broke apart in a ball of flame and spurt of blood from its organic control system. The pilots aboard Hermes were unaware that the Cylons used genetically engineered control systems and believed this 'blood' to be some kind of fuel or lubricant.

Having pulled away to avoid getting hit by flying debris both 'Hot Top' and 'Slammer' turned back to join the main fight that was now taking place. It was at that point she realized she was only tracking five more Raiders but only three kills had been called out including hers. It was clear that the two Heavy Raiders were hiding in amongst the false DRADIS readings leaving the regular Raiders to engage the Vipers.

If they could find that Cylon 'Spooky' their jobs would be a whole lot easier.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade**

Bowman climbed up the ladder towards the Raptor as quickly as his arms and legs could get him up it. He was followed closely by Gravina who turned back around to close the hatch behind them. Another crewman from the Eurylade followed close behind them to close the Eurylade's hatch thus sealing the Raptor from the Faststar.

"Hatch is sealed," said Gravina who, after watching the light turn red indicating the atmosphere in the umbilical had been vented, rose to his feet and jumped into the Electronic Warfare Officer's station. "We're good to go."

Bowman quickly ran through his pre-departure checks before taking the controls. "Alright, here we go." Bowman pulled back on the control column and the ventral thrusters fired causing the little ship to lift up with a gentle thudding sound. Clear of the Eurylade, Bowman selected for the umbilical to be retracted and the small tube moved back inside the craft before being sealed up inside once more.

With Artimus 'Archer' Bowman at the controls once more the Raptor maneuvered away from the Eurylade as it was now passing underneath the Battlestars' Starboard Hangar Pod. Bowman threw the Raptor into a hard right turn before putting the engines into full burn towards the Port Landing Deck which caused the little ship to go inverted relative to Hermes. The Port Landing Deck was the only one that was still available since the Alexis was occupying the Starboard Landing Deck.

"Hermes this is 'Archer', request clearance for hands-on landing, port side."

Instead of Durand or Burmeister it was Dytto's voice that came over the wireless. "You got a clear deck 'Archer'. Bring it home."

Traveling underneath the Port Hangar Pod, Bowman looked downwards as the lip of the Landing Deck passed underneath. Now that it was safe to do so he pushed forwards violently on the controls and the Raptor rose suddenly up and behind Hermes. Gravina instinctively grabbed hold of his console as he felt the g-forces trying to throw him out of his seat.

With the Raptor floating inverted and upwards in relation to Hermes the seemingly upside down Landing Deck passed in front of them. Bowman fired the ventral thrusters once more, killing the upward momentum, before opening the throttles and the Raptor surged forwards inside the Hangar Pod with the Landing Deck still above them!

The illuminated decklift that was prepared to receive them quickly came into view as they traveled the length of the deck. Bowman threw the Raptor into a quick and perfectly executed half barrel roll thus righting the craft in preparation to touch down. Gravina was impressed that there was almost no overshoot as they came out of the roll.

"She wasn't lying," he uttered to himself as he recalled Galit Malka once referring to Bowman as the best Raptor pilot she had ever seen. In what felt like the end to one of the wildest rides he had ever had, Gravina felt the skids hit the deck and almost instantly the decklift began to descend. "Looks like you didn't need a backseater after all."

"Still, it's good to have the company," said Bowman.

* * *

**Cylon C3 Raider**

Hidden amongst the DRADIS clutter produced by the 'Spooky', the Eight sat inside her Heavy Raider trying to get a signal from the Cylon agent aboard Hermes. Suddenly there was a crackling sound in her mind as she began to receive a faint transmission.

"Cavil, is that you?" she asked.

"It's _Deveroux_ whilst I'm aboard this frakking ship," a voice croaked in her head over the hisses and pops from the interference with the transmission. "It's good to hear from you."

"We thought we had lost contact with you permanently when Hermes changed course. Have you been compromised?"

"I don't believe so," replied the Number One, unique amongst his own model for baring a name other than John Cavil. "I believe they suspect there's one of us onboard but I don't think they've figured out who just yet."

"Do you know anything about this Faststar they have discovered? I've scanned the registry and compared it to our databanks. It shows that it was confirmed destroyed by our forces over a month ago."

"Hmm, that's interesting. Seems we have an old fashioned ghost ship on our hands," mumbled Deveroux. "No I don't know anything about it and the way they're acting regarding it makes me think they didn't expect to find it either. I don't know how much longer I can communicate without detection. I'll send you my report for whatever it's worth now. The rumors that are circling the ship is that we are heading for a dust cloud not for from here they call 'Big Red'."

"That would seem the logical course of action," replied the Eight. "I'm ready to receive the download. Good luck."

"Luck is a human notion, Eight," chortled Deveroux which raised a smile on the dark haired Cylon's face.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre **

With Gravina in tow, Bowman stormed into the CIC having come directly from the Hangar Deck. Having spent so long on the cramped Eurylade, Gravina felt somewhat overwhelmed by the enormity of the Battlestar. Dytto cast the stranger a mistrusting look, he didn't like strangers, but if Bowman had brought him into the CIC then he could be trusted – for now.

"SITREP?" asked Bowman as he stood beside Dytto at the Operations Desk.

"'Hot Top's Vipers have managed to keep the Raiders tied up away from us and the Eurylade but we still can't find their Electronic Warfare ship that's producing those fake signals."

For the first time, Bowman was able to look at the overall picture of the battle as his eyes fixed to the overhanging DRADIS screen. The Eurylade was now underneath the Battlestar and positioning itself to maneuver in between the Hangar Pods. The top right hand corner of the display was completely engulfed in DRADIS returns. The DRADIS was able to track the Vipers engaged with enemy forces but without interlinking the readings to the other sensors on the ship it was impossible to tell what was real and what was fake. To make matters worse the 'Spooky' was changing its location to decrease the chance of detection. Burmeister had swept over the entire region twice with radiometers and magnetometers in an effort to zero in on them but had found nothing since the Cylons were constantly relocating.

As he assessed the situation Bowman uttered, "Well we've tried the smart way. Perhaps this calls for a little less subtlety." He walked over to Burmeister's Tactical Station and leaned down beside her to relay his orders. "There!" he said pointing to a large formation of fake contacts in the top right of her screen. "If it's anywhere then it is in there. Have our starboard guns ready for saturation firing. I want you to come up with a firing solution that gives us the best possible coverage over a large area to at least clip the frakker. If we can spot him even for a second we can zero in on him."

"Aye sir," replied Burmeister who immediately began plotting a pattern of fire for the gun crews. As the orders were relayed to the numerous fire control stations dotted across the ship the gun batteries of the Battlestar began training onto the target area where the Cylon Heavy Raiders were hiding. "Ready, sir!"

Looking up at the DRADIS screen once more Bowman ordered, "Fire!"

* * *

From a distance, the starboard side hull of the Battlestar seemed to sparkle momentarily as each one of its turrets fired of a single shell off into space. Each shell had a long tail made of the remnant gases used to fire the round off into space. Like a blanket of death the shells covered the large area designated by Burmeister exploding as they reached the end of their journeys. Some exploded further away from the Hermes than the others in order to give the best coverage as were Burmeister's orders.

Finding that they were now the focus of attention for the guns of the Hermes the two Heavy Raiders began to maneuver away to the side unaware that additional shells were incoming. The 'Spooky' was on the starboard side of the C3 keeping a tight formation to provide the command variant as much protection as possible.

The barrage was barely a few seconds old when the Gods smiled on the crew of the Battlestar Hermes if only for a brief second. A lonely shell, purely by chance, struck the 'Spooky' squarely in a part of the small craft that could be described as its face. The Heavy Raider exploded in a brilliant ball of flame and glowing debris that impacted against the side of the C3 Raider.

'Hot Top' looked down at her DRADIS screen. In an instant it had cleared to reveal the small swarm of Vipers, just three regular Raiders and one lonely Heavy Raider that appeared to be out of control.

"All Vipers, the scope is clear. Let's mop 'em up, Red Team you're with me to finish off the last Heavy."

It was not to be however. The Eight aboard the C3 had realized that to continue the mission would be pointless. Her Raiders had failed to break through the Vipers and destroy the Faststar as she had so ordered but the information on Hermes she had obtained from Deveroux would prove just as valuable and so with that in mind she ordered her remaining Raiders to jump away.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

"They retreated!" declared Burmeister looking at her screen. She looked over her shoulder towards her Commander and said, "They've run away."

The CIC exploded in riotous applause at the idea of having beaten the Cylons and forced them to retreat without having lost a single pilot. Today was a good day.

Bowman allowed his crew to have their moment, Gods-knew they deserved it, but he knew they had to act fast. This was a golden opportunity for them to escape with the Eurylade.

"How much longer until the Eurylade completes docking?" he asked Durand who was in near-constant communication with the ship that was tucking itself underneath the Battlestar.

"Another ninety seconds, sir," replied the Petty Officer.

"Very good, let's take this opportunity to recover 'Hot Top's Vipers," said Bowman.

"She did good today," interjected Dytto regarding 'Hot Top'. "I think 'Griffon' had better watch out."

"Yes she did," added Bowman who then looked up at the Vipers on the DRADIS screen as they formed up behind the Battlestar ready to start landing. 'Griffon' and the initial CAP were still providing cover for the Eurylade should the Cylons show up once more. "Captain Burmeister; please enter in the next series of jump coordinates into the navigational computer." Burmeister acknowledged the order just as Durand reported that the Eurylade was now securely docked underneath the Battlestar.

Soon, the last Vipers were slamming down on the Landing Deck and the ship was ready to jump. Before he give the order to engage the FTL system Bowman dared himself to utter the words, "We win this time."


	8. Chapter 8

**Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis  
2 Days since 'The Fall'**

The hatch opened to reveal nothing but space and planetoid debris. The air inside the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis suddenly went rushing out into the vacuum of space carrying several bodies with it including that of Natalie Faust. Her body twisted and turned as it was expelled outside and into the Erebus Belt. Her eyes bulged as she fought to breathe air that wasn't there. Her heart tried to beat but the blood wouldn't pump. Soon her body began to feel as though it were solidifying and she was trapped inside it unable to escape.

She tried to scream but it was impossible…

**

* * *

Cylon Occupied Virgon  
40 Days since 'The Fall' (Present Day)**

Natalie shot up in bed as she awoke from the nightmare. Her blond hair, darker than her model usually had it, was laced with a nervous sweat. She sat upright in the darkened cabin and tried to regain control of her breathing. It was as if her body was trying to make sure that it could breathe after the torment of the nightmare that took her back to the day she died aboard the Alexis. In her chest it felt as though a professional boxer was beating against her rib cage as her heart raced almost uncontrollably.

She threw her hands to her face and she subconsciously tried to rub the nightmare away from her eyes. This was not the first time she had awoken from the horror that came to her on a frequent basis in the night since that day over a month ago. The psychological damage that came from dying was an unexpected one for the Cylon race who were confident that death was not a threat to them given that they had resurrection technology. It seemed nothing comes without some kind of price.

"Trouble sleeping?" croaked a voice in the darkness opposite her bed.

Natalie looked in the direction it had come from just as a small lamp was switched on by the unexpected visitor. The small bulb cast a dim light over the room to reveal one of the Cavils sitting in her armchair facing her bed. He sat with a glass of brandy in his hand as he continued to stare at her with interest.

"Cavil!" she gasped at the sight of him before pulling up the blanket to cover her naked form. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough," he replied as he watched her try to cover up. "You do know I've seen those breasts before, maybe not yours specifically but on your fellow model members at least."

"What are you doing here, Cavil?" she asked angrily feeling violated by his eyes that seemed to slide over her.

"Observing one of the universe's great paradoxes; a machine having a nightmare."

"I wasn't having a nightmare!" she shot back defensively although her nervous disposition made it clear that she was lying.

"If you say so," he croaked, opening his hands before placing them together in front of him. "You do know that we can negate the need for you to sleep. It's a simple procedure."

"Our programmers decided that there was importance in us sleeping, in us dreaming. I don't think we should mess with that."

"Even if nightmares are the result?"

"Yes," she replied momentarily glancing away from him as if for a split second she considered his offer if only to end these dreams.

"Just out of interest, what were you dreaming about?"

"It doesn't matter. Turn around!" she ordered.

"Why?" he asked as he took another drink of his brandy.

"I want to get dressed and I don't want you to watch."

Cavil chuckled in amusement. "You Sixes, I find you the most fascinating out of all our models. Oh and it's not just the, uh, _hardware_. Out of all seven of us your model seems the one most determined to individualize yourselves from your sisters. You don't see the strength that comes from unity with your model."

"My model is united," she protested. "We just see the benefits of variety."

"I wonder if that's all it is?" he uttered.

"What do you want, Cavil?" she asked getting impatient that he wasn't cooperating.

"I thought you should know that we found Hermes," he croaked. "It's met up with another Colonial warship. A Faststar. That was something we didn't expect but its no real threat to our plan for the ship. Speaking of which, how are things going here with Adrastos?"

"He's awake," she replied as she reached for her clothes on the floor beside her bed and pulled them under the blankets before proceeding to start putting them on away from his eyes. "He seems convinced he is in some kind of prisoner of war camp."

"Isn't he?" interjected Cavil as if trying to make a point.

"No!" she declared angrily.

"Then tell me Six, I mean…Natalie. What happens if he wishes to leave?"

"He can't leave just yet. It's for his own protection."

"Ah I see," said Cavil.

"I doubt it," she said as she threw the blankets from her to reveal that she was now wearing a blue t-shirt and black trousers. She turned over and let her legs fall down by the side of the bed. "You were the one so bitterly opposed to us establishing this colony."

"It seemed a contradiction to our goal of eradicating the Human race," he croaked with a frustrated glint in his eye as if he were an artist who could never be satisfied with his latest masterpiece. "Something we _all_ agreed upon."

"We all agreed upon eradicating the Human threat. Not the entire race."

"It's the same thing isn't it?" asked Cavil. "Right now there are ships out there crammed full of survivors who will go off into the galaxy and establish new worlds as their home where they will raise their children with the legend of the evil Cylons and then one day those children will grow and go back out into the universe seeking revenge. Even here on the Twelve Colonies there are survivors who are stirring up trouble for us. My plan will help eradicate that threat and Nester Adrastos is a major factor in that plan."

"This colony is also helping to neutralize the threat posed by humanity," persisted Natalie.

"How?" scoffed an increasingly frustrated Cavil.

"By fostering the love of God with those who wish to live here with us."

Cavil sighed impatiently as he felt his blood pressure rising, a flaw that was for some reason that continually escaped him, included in his model's design.

"Do you really think that…God's love is going to suppress the feelings of resentment and revenge that kindles inside everyone of these people you have brought to this freak show? Are you that deluded?"

Natalie looked at him and uttered, "If you let God into your heart you would understand."

Cavil stood up to leave but not before downing the last of the brandy and saying to her, "In that case I will never understand. Nor would I want to."

* * *

**Lt. Nester Adrastos  
Eighth Day in Captivity**

Nester had refused to leave the cabin since the Cylon calling herself Natalie Faust had left a few hours earlier. He had very little idea what the time was but he estimated that it was around midnight, perhaps later. Surprisingly, there was still quite a bit of activity outside whenever he looked through the window.

He had noted that the Centurion patrols passed by without any discernable pattern making it difficult to predict when they would come next. They usually patrolled in groups of three but on one occasion he saw that they were missing a member. This seemingly unimportant fact seemed to linger in his mind and he felt it warranted further investigation although how he could do that was beyond him for the time being. His mind was convinced that he was a prisoner of war and as such he had to act carefully. This made him question every act he took from now on. Although the hostage situation he had created with that girl, Megan, and then later with the Cylon woman had ended peacefully he had already displayed his capacity for violence and it would be reasonable to assume that he would be watched carefully.

As the hours ticked away and he maintained his observations he saw that the Human Cylons and the regular Humans only interacted briefly with one another. Only twice had he seen groups that consisted of both Humans and Cylons. As for the Cylons, there seemed to be a greater concentration of certain types than others. He noticed that while there were plenty of the ones like Natalie and Leoben there were only a few like Aaron Doral.

Hunger soon became an issue for him. This raised several questions in his mind. Firstly, could he eat anytime he wanted? If he was a prisoner of war then there would no doubt be set meal times and the next one probably wouldn't be until morning. Secondly, if he could eat where could he get food from?

Watching several people going passed his little hut/cell he decided to accept that he was not confined to this one place and opened the door half expecting to get shot as he did so. His fears seemed to become a reality as a lowly Centurion appeared at the end of the street. It glanced at Adrastos standing in the doorway but after that completely ignored him and continued onwards up the road.

"Guess he was the one missing," he uttered to himself after remembering the Centurion patrol that had been missing one of its number.

Reassured that he wasn't going to be gunned down, Nester proceeded down the steps outside his hut and started walking up the road in the direction from which the Centurion had come. Subconsciously, he deemed it safer to go the way the Centurions weren't although he knew that in all likelihood he couldn't go anywhere without seeing their armoured bodies skulking around.

Several people passed him and nodded a hello. Nester didn't know how he should respond to them. He knew that many of them were collaborators with the Cylons and in his mind this made them the enemy but the people he saw here didn't seem like they were his enemy. They just seemed like normal people trying to make a life for themselves. One thing was certain however, the fact that they were here at the mercy of the Cylons could never be forgotten. The overhanging arms of the semi-submerged Baseship stretching out over them were a constant reminder that collaborators or not these people were the vanquished of the Cylons just like he was.

In the cold night air he heard a tune being played on a guitar. He began to head in the direction from which it emanated as if it were somehow calling to him. He walked as though he had become hypnotized by the song and soon he found himself beside a small cabin. Sitting in an old chair on the porch outside the small home was an elderly man surrounded by Humans and Cylons listening to him playing the guitar and singing a rather sad song. The people around him seemed to be hypnotized by the music in the same way Nester had become. It was as if the tune was reaching into his heart and manipulating him somehow.

"William," said a voice from behind him.

Nester turned around and saw Megan Jordan walking up towards him. She stood beside Nester and the two of them continued to listen to the old man sing apparently oblivious to everyone else.

"His name is William," she continued. "He's one of the oldest people here. And the wisest. He can't hear you or speak to you. He has some kind of mental condition the Simons can't seem to cure."

"Simons?" asked Nester.

"They're our doctors," she explained.

"You mean their Cylons?"

"Yes," she replied. "They've tried many times and then one day they just stopped. Everyone now seems to think that this is how God intended him to be and we shouldn't try to change that."

"So he just sits there singing songs?"

"Yep, sometimes for days on end before he rests. It was the Sixes, the ones like Natalie, who rescued him. They believe that God is using him to speak to us through his songs."

"Really," uttered Nester disbelievingly.

"Ssshhh, can't you hear the story?"

"What story?" he asked.

"Listen!"

Nester fell silent and listened to the song trying to hear what was being sung by the elderly man whose eyes never seemed to open as the music flowed from him like an invisible energy pulling people towards him.

_I've wept for those who suffer long  
But how I weep for those who've gone  
Into rooms of grief and questioned wrong  
But keep on killing_

Nester couldn't make out the story that Megan was referring to except for the exact words that William was singing. Nevertheless he kept on listening.

_It's in the soul to feel such things  
But weak to watch without speaking_

For William, however, the story was as clear as though he were there in the flesh. Locked inside his mind that prevented him from seeing the universe today he spent his time reliving past events and as he sung the song he was back on Caprica almost fifty-eight years ago when he first started playing a guitar. He was one of a growing number of monotheists who had appeared at that time before the Cylons were created.

It was a mild morning in the capital city of one of the richest colonies. Everywhere, people were going about their daily lives oblivious to the drama that was about to unfold before their very eyes.

_There is a train that's heading straight  
To heaven's gate, to heaven's gate_

William watched through his young and energetic eyes as the Maglev train passed overhead above the street where he sat playing his guitar hoping for some charity from the passers by. As the Maglev train disappeared into a tunnel there was soon a loud sound like thunder booming through the city. People looked up as where once there was a train there was now only fire, smoke and debris.

_And on the way, child and man,  
And woman wait, watch and wait_

The train was blown up by members of a group calling themselves the Soldiers of the One, the militant arm of those who believed in the one-true God. It would spell disaster for those who peacefully worshipped a single God like William did. It brought on years of persecution for those who dared to believe differently but among those who were driven into hiding there was always a belief that one day Humanity would pay for their crimes and the righteous would survive.

_Watch and wait…  
For redemption day_

In a roundabout sort of way this settlement established by the Cylons had achieved that goal.

"I suppose I should…apologize to you about earlier," said Nester to Megan.

"It's alright," she said quietly as she still listened to the music. "Around here we have learned to forgive those who deserve forgiveness."

"You mean like the Cylons?" he asked. "Have you forgiven them for what they did the colonies?"

Megan's eyes looked downwards at the ground as if the answer to his question was written on a piece of paper by her feet.

"It's not as easy as you put it," she said almost in a whisper. "This part of the story started a long time ago. Before either of us were born. It would take too long for me to explain now."

"Oh? Most people seem to be up quite late tonight. Don't you sleep around here or something?" he asked referring to the fact that the night didn't seem to bring with it any rest for the residents of this Cylon 'village'.

"We sleep when we need to," she explained smiling. "Some days we go to bed when the sun goes down and get up when it does. Other days we go to bed before it goes down and get up when it's already half way through the day. There are no rules concerning how we live our lives here. We aren't prisoners or zombies. We work when we need to. Rest when our bodies require it. Celebrate when we feel happy. Eat when we want to."

"Eat!" he interjected quickly as the very mention of the act caused his stomach to grumble.

"You're hungry I take it?"

"Yes," he replied. "Quite hungry."

"Why don't you stay here and I will go and fix you something?"

"Ok," he said politely. "Thank you."

Megan seemed to be overjoyed that he accepted her offer and she quickly began to walk away in order to fetch him some food leaving him to remain listening to the song that William was playing.

_No riches in trade for the fate  
Of every person who died in hate  
Throw us a bone, you men of great_

As he watched William playing his guitar and singing some of the saddest lyrics he had ever heard Nester's eyes fell on a young girl who sat on the porch by his feet looking up at the musician. She was hanging on every word that emanated from his lips and at one point she closed her eyes as if she were looking inside herself for the briefest of moments before opening them again.

When they opened again her eyes fixed on Nester and stared deeply at him. She had such a sad face as she looked back at him while the song carried over them. It was appealing to her in a way that it didn't to the others who were listening, not even Nester. The young girl, whom he reasoned to be about sixteen or seventeen years of age, had long black hair that fell over her back and shoulders and she was wearing a dark blue dress that seemed somewhat out of place to the more rugged clothes that everyone else was wearing.

She suddenly turned her gaze over to the right and motioned with a quick nod for Nester to look at something. Curious about what she wanted him to see; Nester looked over and saw two rather intimidating men charging towards him. Nester turned to face them and prepared himself as his defenses went up triggered by the appearance and speed of their approach. Was he not supposed to be listening to the song? Did that violate some kind of unspoken rule about non-believers being here?

"Evening gentlemen," he said as they stopped just a few feet away from him. "Something I can do for you?"

"You Adrastos?" asked the larger of the two, a man in his early twenties with quite a broad and physically intimidating build while the other appeared younger perhaps barely out of his teens.

"That's correct," replied Nester sternly. "Lieutenant Nester Adrastos, formerly of the Battlestar Hermes. What of it?"

The whole demeanor of the two men suddenly changed dramatically. They became more formal and Nester felt that they were less of a threat to him now.

"Please forgive us for not saluting, sir," explained the larger one. "Military protocol is strongly discouraged here. My name is Corporal Eugene Holloway. This is Private Thomas Knott. We were with our reconnaissance platoon from the 82nd Light Infantry Regiment stationed on Libran when the Cylons hit. We were scouting ahead for weak spots to counterattack their landing force when we got ambushed. Next thing we knew we woke up here."

"The Cylons told us that it's been over a month since the colonies were bombed," added Knott. "Is that true, sir?"

"I'm afraid it is, Private," explained Nester.

"Gods damn it!" cursed Holloway. "The frakking toasters, they must have kept us sedated for the better part of month."

"How long have you been here?" asked Nester.

"About six days," answered Knott. "None of us have any memories of anything before that."

"There are others? You mean other Marines?"

"Yes sir," said Holloway. "There's thirteen PoWs in total now that you're here. You're the first officer they've put in here so far. Up until now I've been one of the highest ranking personnel. We seem to be the only ones who haven't given in to all this God crap they keep preaching."

"Yea, what's the deal with that?" asked Nester who'd had enough of the whole monotheistic talk since he had arrived.

"We don't know exactly," explained Holloway. "But the people here seemed to have swallowed it whole. They've tried to get us in on it but we're keeping to ourselves. We know where our loyalties and our beliefs lay and it certainly aint with no frakking…_Cylon_ God."

"I see," said Nester. "Well then, as the only officer here it is my duty to assume command, unless you have an objection?"

"No sir," grinned Holloway picking up on the little joke. "In fact I'd be happy for you to."

"Very well," continued Nester. "My first order of business is to meet the men and learn who is with us and who is working for the Cylons."

"The others are anxious to meet you, sir," added Knott. "We can take you to them."

"No," said Nester. "I want to put a stop to any gatherings. They know we are military and they will be keeping a close watch on us. Holloway; I want you to speak individually to the others and have them introduce themselves to me over the next few days. They are not to address me as 'sir' but simply as Adrastos. Let's not give the Cylons any reason to crack down on us."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Holloway. "Although one of our guys is currently in solitary confinement for picking a fight with one of those skinjob Cylons."

"Ok well that is another thing I want stopped," ordered Nester. "Make sure everyone knows that they are not to conduct any acts of resistance without authorization from myself. They need to know that the actions of one affect all the others. Now, we've stood here talking too long already so you have your orders. Oh and one other thing; when the others introduce themselves they are to say the word 'rock' so that I know it's them. Once I know who is who we will discuss our next move."

"You mean we're busting out, sir?" asked Knott excitedly.

"One thing at a time," laughed Nester knowing how far off anything as grand as that could be for them just yet. "In the meantime instruct everyone to cooperate but not to collaborate." The two of them looked at the Lieutenant from Hermes with confused faces unsure exactly what the difference was. "By that I mean play their game. Take part in the daily activities enough to keep things amicable between us and them but draw the line at becoming one of them."

"Understood, sir," said Holloway.

"Good luck gentlemen," said Nester. "Good night."

"Good night Mr. Adrastos," said Holloway and Knott before they turned and walked away. Once again Nester stood alone listening to the music. Having got caught up with his new found responsibilities he had forgotten about the young girl who had first made him aware of Knott and Holloway. He looked at where he had seen her but found she had gone. He wondered why she had drawn his attention towards them. Perhaps she was a Marine or another type of PoW from a different branch of the service no matter how unlikely that seemed given her small stature.

In the corner of his left eye he spied two people walking towards him. He looked to the left and his heart froze with fear as a voice echoed in his head.

"_Are you ready to surrender?"_

The man walking beside Megan who was holding a plate upon which was a sandwich was another Doral like the one who had spent six days interrogating him aboard the Baseship. Everyday he would ask Nester that same question over and over and it still rung clearly in his memory.

"_Are you ready to surrender?"_

The one walking beside Megan was a little different to the one who had interrogated him. He had a goatee beard and his hair was a little bushier but take all that away and it was definitely his model of Cylon.

"Hello Nester," said Megan beaming at the sight of him. "Here, I made you a sandwich. There's cheese, lettuce and even a bit of cucumber. I wish there was some meat but we have to make do."

She held out the plate for him to take but he remained firm. His eyes kept staring at the face beneath the beard this one was using to try and distinguish himself from the others of his type. He kept seeing that same arrogant thing that tormented him for days. Now that he had an opportunity to get some kind of revenge, he began to ponder what would happen if he threw himself at the Cylon and strangled him but his own words to Knott and Holloway played out before him. If he killed a Cylon then surely the other PoWs would suffer. No, now wasn't the time.

"Is everything ok?" she asked him before noticing that he was staring at the Cylon.

"I think he is finding it difficult to be around me," said the Doral.

"What?" gasped Megan! "Why?"

"I think it's because I remind him of the Cylon who interrogated him," answered the Doral. "Perhaps I should go until you're more accustomed to us here?"

"No!" shot Nester although he wasn't sure why. "It's fine. Aaron isn't it? That's what you all go by; Aaron Doral?"

"You're half right," said the Doral. "When I came here and met Megan I elected to change my first name. It's Adrian, Adrian Doral."

Adrian held his hand out for Nester to take. Nester looked down at it for a moment wondering whether or not to accept it. He looked at the hand and saw the embodiment of the torment he went through under the other Doral onboard the Baseship. Soon the three of them realized that time was passing along and so, forced into making a move, Nester reached out and took it. As their hands clasped together, Nester half-expected his to melt as if Adrian's was somehow radioactive. It was a tense few moments as they shook and it was broken by the young and optimistic voice of Megan.

"There!" she said. "That's better isn't it?"

"Yea," said Nester as he released his grip and fought the urge to wipe his hand against his trousers.

"Here," she said once more offering him the sandwich. Nester carefully took the plate and as he looked down at the bread he realized he had forgotten about his hunger now that he was in the presence of a Doral. "Try it," she said obviously curious to see how he would find it.

Nester reached down with his spare left hand and picked up one side of the sandwich that was cut down the middle into two rectangles. With both Megan and Adrian watching, Nester took a bite. Although his first reaction was that it was quite bland he began to appreciate it for the fact that he hadn't had food this fresh since before the fall of the colonies.

"Well?" she asked.

"It's good," he said honestly although he suspected he wasn't too convincing and so he felt compelled to repeat the compliment twice more which in his mind he felt like he was overcompensating. Nevertheless Megan seemed happy that he was enjoying it. As he finished the first half he reached down for the second but paused as he saw Adrian put his hand on Megan's shoulder and the young woman closed in quite sensually to the Cylon.

Having seen his reaction to this Adrian felt compelled to explain, "We're a couple. We have been for a few months now."

"So you two new each other before the…" said Nester referring to the bombing of the colonies.

"Yes," replied Adrian a little worried about how he would react to this news. "Although Megan didn't know I was a Cylon until afterwards."

"I see," he said before taking his first bite of the second half. "It must have been a shock for you?"

"It was," she said giggling slightly. "But I learned that what's meant to be is meant to be."

Adrian smiled at Megan lovingly and she smiled back. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead which she seemed to relish. It was perhaps one of the purest displays of love Nester had ever seen but as he looked at Adrian he began to wonder if the feelings he had were genuine or were just programmed in. He was after all a machine while she gave off the impression of a naïve young woman.

Nester finished the sandwich and felt all the better for having eaten it. Seeing that the plate was clear Adrian moved to take it off him and said to Megan, "Here sweetie, why don't you run this back to the house and let me and Nester talk for a moment?"

"Ok," she said before reaching up to kiss him while taking the plate. Both Adrian and Nester watched as she walked away, neither of them speaking until she was out of earshot.

"She's a lovely girl," said Nester.

"Yes she is," said Adrian looking back at him. "I'm a very lucky man."

"Yea," said Nester whose voice hinted that he didn't like Adrian describing himself as a 'man'. Adrian had picked up on this.

"I know this must be difficult for you to accept but we are not your enemies here. Yes we are Cylons but these people are your people. They are Human in every way just like you."

Nester wanted to throw himself into a verbal battle with Adrian about how these people collaborated with an enemy force to help annihilate the Human race but he felt his efforts would have been wasted and instead decided to be civil for the time being.

"I don't know if she told you," he started, "but I apologized to Megan earlier for the way I acted when I woke up this morning."

"She did," said Adrian as the two of them started walking for the sake of having something to do whilst they talked. "Thank you for your apology and it is accepted by everyone. We understand how you must have felt after your ordeal at the hands of one of my fellow Fives, that's my model number. I hope that in time you will learn to distinguish the members of each model as individuals and not judge one because of the actions of another. We aren't all exactly the same."

"I guess I'll find out," said Nester quite diplomatically which seemed to amuse Adrian.

"You think of us as machines and to an extent that is what we are. The truth is, however, we are more than that but if to view us as machines that are no different to your car makes it easier for you then consider this; you can build two cars that are completely identical in every single detail but once they leave the shop floor they are no longer identical. One will always have more mileage on it or have a driver who is less careful than the other. After a year the two cars may still look the same but they are very different. The same goes for us. We are the result of our experiences on your worlds. Those who didn't spend much time with your kind stay close to their baseline programming while those who spent considerable time amongst you become different like me. It might please you to know that I am the only Doral who permanently resides here."

"That's good to know," uttered Nester.

Adrian knew things weren't going as well as he and Megan had hoped. He didn't blame Nester for his apprehension, there was a lot of hatred buried deep inside the Marine Lieutenant and it was going to take more than a sandwich and polite conversation to breakthrough his defenses.

"I have an idea," said Adrian. "Why don't you join us for dinner tomorrow night? You'd be surprised at what I can do with a few fresh vegetables. I even have a bottle of Caprican whiskey aged seven years stashed away somewhere that I could pull out for us. Help smooth things over." The two of them stopped walking while Adrian waited for Nester's answer. "What do you say?"

"Sure, why not?" said Nester not quite sure just what it was he was agreeing to.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**The song that William is singing is called "Redemption Day" and was written by Sheryl Crow but the version I had in mind for this chapter was the one recorded by Johnny Cash.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Battlestar Hermes  
Wardroom**

Chief Imlay stood before the most senior members from both the Battlestar Hermes and the Faststar Eurylade giving his report. He had spent the last eight hours crawling around the Eurylade's FTL drive making plans on how to adapt the FTL drive from the Alexis to the warship and was feeling quite worse for wear as a result. Before that he was supervising his team as they rigged up a hardline between the helm of the Hermes to the Faststar so that it would automatically compensate for any change in course the Battlestar made. The hatch the Eurylade was docked to was not designed for underway replenishment and lacked the necessary locking clamps for holding a ship in place during maneuvers. Despite this link up Imlay had recommended that Hermes make as little maneuvering as possible while the two ships were docked.

Directly in front of the Chief behind the large oak desk was Bowman who sat with the immense painting of Hermes, the patron God of the Battlestar, adorning the wall behind him. The Commander sat quite lazily with his jacket unbuttoned at the front in a rather untidy fashion. Imlay was not used to seeing him like this and during the course of the briefing he noticed that Bowman's eyes spent a lot of time on Galit Malka who sat two chairs to his left. Imlay, who had been on the same mission to rescue Adar's sister and niece six years earlier as Bowman and Malka, noted that the look he gave her was not quite the same as six years ago when the two of them were becoming close. They were more suspicious of her somehow. In truth, Imlay himself eyed the MoI Major with suspicion. In his mind anyone who was reported as dead should actually be dead. It's perhaps the worst kind of deception.

Either side of Bowman and Malka were their respective Executive Officers. To Bowman's left was Dytto who made it no secret that he was untrusting of the two MoI officers who sat opposite. For his part, Keene Barron didn't seem completely with the rest of them. His mind was clearly wandering off onto other things that seemed to be infinitely more important than what was going on around him. He only ever spoke whenever he was spoken to and contributed very little, unlike Dytto.

"I have a question, sorry Chief," interrupted Dytto as Imlay was half way through explaining how he was going to have to modify the inverse coil on the Alexis' FTL to accommodate the bigger spool on the Eurylade. "Since the Eurylade was heading into 'Big Red' as well why are we going to the effort to fix their ship? Why not just take Hermes in?"

"That will become clear later," said Malka before Bowman had a chance to speak. She then turned back to Imlay. "Please continue Chief."

"Actually," said Imlay. "There's not much more to say. I estimate that to pull the FTL from the Alexis and modify it before reinstalling it in the Eurylade could take upto thirty six hours. That's working in shifts around the clock."

"Thank you, Chief," said Bowman. "You can begin work when I tell you. You're dismissed."

"Aye sir," said Imlay turning to leave the room.

"Good to see you again, Chief!" called out Malka in an almost playful tone.

Imlay stopped and looked back at her. He tried to say something but couldn't muster the words and so instead he simply nodded a polite acknowledgement before continuing to leave. This reaction did not go unnoticed by Dytto. The Hermes XO looked over at Malka and Barron who sat opposite him, neither of them giving away anything about what they were thinking which annoyed Dytto. It was like he was looking at a pair of machines sitting opposite.

"So what is this all about exactly?" asked Dytto to anyone who would answer him.

"Well I was hoping the Major would be kind enough to fill us in on that," added Bowman referring to Malka. Galit and Bowman shared a look as Bowman added, "I won't authorize any work on the Eurylade until I know exactly what it is we're getting in to."

"Getting in to?" quoted Galit. "You make it sound so insidious."

"You're not denying it," said Bowman which amused Galit somewhat while Barron remained silent.

"Alright then," said Galit getting upto her feet. She casually strolled around the table with her arms folded and upto the painting of Hermes that adorned the rear wall making it unmissable to anyone who walked into the room. Having admired the artwork for several seconds she turned back to face the three men, in particular Dytto. "About six years ago the three of us were on a mission to rescue President Adar's sister and niece from the Sagittaron Liberation Army. The SLA hoped that by kidnapping them they would be able to use them as bargaining chips for creating an independent Sagittaron."

"Yeah I remember it," said Dytto. "But I saw the rescue team on TV being decorated by the President. I don't ever remember seeing any of you."

"That's because our part of the mission was classified," added Bowman. "The team you saw being decorated was lead by an officer named Myra Aperlae. The least said about that individual the better."

Both Bowman and Galit shared a sly grin before she continued with her briefing.

"The SLA had taken over an abandoned base in the Erebus Belt. The base was built in secret during the Cylon War and when the war ended it was decided to shift the operations conducted there to a new base established in 'Big Red'."

"That's a long frakking way to go!" said Dytto. "Why so far from the colonies?"

"The base was used for weapons research and development. Some of the research that was carried out there was considered…'questionable' by some elements of the government."

"Questionable? How?" asked Dytto. "What were they building there?"

"Weapons such as turret launched guided missiles, cluster bomblets designed specifically for Centurions, metal-breaking acid. They carried out research into the effectiveness of these advanced weapons against Cylon ships and Centurions."

"Well that seems pretty standard stuff," said Dytto.

"Yeah but the research was conducted on Cylon prisoners."

"Prisoner!" gasped Dytto. "You can't take a Cylon, prisoner. You can capture one but…"

"Well, towards the end of the war there were those in some circles of the government who believed that the Cylons had evolved into truly sentient lifeforms in their own right and that their revolt was a result of their mistreatment by Humanity. They had quite a following up to the point where they persuaded the government to keep the base a secret from the Cylons for fear of derailing any hope of peace talks."

Dytto scoffed but Bowman listened intensely.

"So why did they relocate it to 'Big Red'?" asked the Commander.

"The base was originally maintained by the Colonial Fleet but when the Armistice was signed control of the operation was handed over to the Ministry of Intelligence. They felt that its location in the Erebus Belt was too much of a risk given that the belt is used by several pirate and smuggler groups like the Erebea so they decided to move the operation away from the colonies altogether. A space station was built out here to continue the work but after five years it was decided to abandon it since the Cylon threat didn't seem so immediate anymore and the funding for the base could be better spent on reconstruction but not before many of the weapons were completed and stored there."

"So you're telling me there is a space station filled with weapons just left derelict out here!" gasped Dytto. "What was stopping some maniac from jumping out to go and get them?"

"Trust me, that station is well defended," said Galit in a way that implied the weapons there were quite safe. "That's why Hermes can't jump directly to the station. Its defenses are designed to recognize the Eurylade but that's it. Anything else would be fired upon."

"Can these weapons be adapted to fit Hermes?" asked Bowman.

"Almost certainly," said Galit returning to her seat having walked a full circuit around the table. "I should also point out that several Vipers were taken there for testing some of these weapons. You may be able salvage some of the parts for them to help keep your own air wing operational. So, do we have the FTL from the Alexis?"

Both Dytto and Galit looked at Bowman waiting for an answer. The Commander remained silent while staring at the edge of the desk in deep thought. It took a few seconds before he finally spoke to them.

"Caleb, Keene; would you give me and the Major a moment alone please?"

Silently, Keene Barron and Caleb Dytto stood up and walked out leaving Bowman and Galit alone. Once they were gone she looked at him and smiled as she joked, "So 'Ace', you going to ravish me across the desk or something?"

"Hardly," he uttered.

"I didn't think so. Well?"

"I want to know what you are keeping from us about this base. Don't try and deny it. I know there's something because I know you_…'Psych'_."

"You definitely would have made a good agent," she said commenting on this darker side of Bowman that she was seeing. This aspect of his personality was more distrustful and suspicious, the result of a negative view of Humanity, a view that most MoI Agents learned to embrace hence her comment. "Perhaps we should have tried harder to recruit you before you got yourself a Battlestar?"

"No thank you. I prefer pistols at dawn rather than knife in the back."

She smiled before adding, "Same old Artimus. Y'know, I haven't lied to you about anything I've said so far."

"A lie of omission is still a lie. Listen to me; I have five thousand people on this ship I have to think about. They're not all soldiers. They are some of the last survivors of our people and before I go risking them by helping you and your crew I want answers."

"I'm not asking you to risk Hermes or anyone onboard your ship," protested Galit. "All I want is the FTL from the Alexis to be fitted to the Eurylade. After that I will head out to the base and if you're that concerned I give you my word that we won't come back. Just ships passing in the night. Like it should be."

As he listened to her, Bowman suspected that the last few words were aimed more at their relationship history rather than the current operational environment. He fell silent as he went into deep thought once more. Although she hadn't come out and said it she made it clear that she had no intention of revealing all her cards until she was ready and he knew how stubborn she could be. Without him realizing it the silence had dragged on for almost a minute and it was Galit who broke it once again but it was from an angle Bowman didn't expect.

"I was really happy to hear that you got married to Brooke," she said to him which caused him to look up at her. "I wish we could have been friends after the mission. Perhaps then you would trust me more now."

"It's not a question of trusting you as my friend," he said to her honestly. "You know that I started to have feelings for towards the end of the mission. You know that I don't give out those feelings to people just on a whim and that's still a factor in all of this."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she said looking away momentarily with a mix of guilt and shame over having deceived him for so long. "It means a lot to me."

He simply nodded before continuing, "But I don't trust _Major_ Galit Malka of the Ministry of Intelligence. The same MoI officer who led me to believe that my friend was dead for six years. The same officer whom I know is willing to torture people for information; yes I remember what you did back then. The truth is there are two separate Galit Malkas and I am man enough to admit that the MoI side of you scares me to no end. When you are on a mission you change. I can see it in your eyes. You only see the mission and nothing else and when I sit here and look into your eyes across this table I see that side of you more clearly than ever. Maybe it's because the colonies are gone and all you have left is this mission, I don't know. You just seem so sure about completing it."

"So," she sighed with disappointment. "I take it you're not going to authorize the work to be carried out?"

"Are you going to tell me what's really at that base?" asked Bowman offering her one last opportunity to cooperate.

"Artimus-" she began trying to plead with him not to force her to lie to him.

"No!" he shot back firmly. "I want an answer now and I want it to be the truth. I'm not asking you as Commander of the Hermes, I am asking you as someone who was close to you once. Tell me!"

Galit stood up and composed herself. The MoI officer was now beaming through for him to see, there was no mistaking it.

"In that case Commander," she said to him through a neutral tone of voice. "Me and my crew shall have to bid you farewell. We have a long way to go without an FTL drive to take us there."

Bowman stood up alongside her and asked, "You're still going to proceed with this mission?"

"I am. I don't think there's anything more to be said here, do you?"

Bowman was silent. With no other answer from him she silently said her good bye before turning her back to him and walking away. She was almost at the hatch leading into the wardroom when he called out, "Wait!" She stopped, keeping her back to him while tilting her head to the right to hear what he had to say. "I'm authorizing the work to be carried out. I'll have Chief Imlay pull the FTL from the Alexis and install it in the Eurylade."

She turned around and faced him. "This will benefit Hermes, I swear it to you. When my crew and I return to this ship you will have those weapons to help defend the people onboard because I know how much they mean to you."

"I'm not finished," he interjected firmly. Galit remained silent as she listened. "I'm going too. I'm also taking a team of my own people with me to look over whatever is there. Call them an assessment team if you like."

"That won't be necessary," she replied but Bowman was undeterred.

"That's the condition of me giving you the FTL drive from the Alexis. I don't think it's an unreasonable one."

Bowman watched as her eyes glanced away for a moment before she finally acknowledged his request.

"Alright," she said. "You and your team may come too." She began to leave but not before adding, "I like this new Bowman. You're not the angry man I used to know from the Battlestar Valkyrie. You're more controlled than ever. I wonder; what will one day break that control?"

Her words had deliberately touched a nerve with Bowman. Perhaps it was her way of making sure that she left with one up on him or maybe she was just reminding him of the man he once was. Either way, as Bowman lowered himself back down into his chair his mind cast back to a time when he did lose the control he so desperately wished to hold onto…

**

* * *

Delphi, Caprica  
Eight Years before 'The Fall'**

Artimus Bowman walked with Brooke Garner along the pier that stretched out over the sea like a long wooden finger protruding from the land. It wasn't a very big pier being only twenty meters wide and a third of a kilometer long with a small arcade at the bottom that echoed with the sound of gambling and video game machines.

It was a cold and gloomy evening. The clouds were low and heavy-looking with a cocktail of blue and grey intermixing as they rolled overhead. Both of them were wrapped up tightly in long thick jackets as they walked arm in arm down the pier. As far as they were concerned it was a perfect day. They had been together for almost five months now and arranging time to see one another around Brooke's classes and Bowman's duties with the fleet had been a real headache but nevertheless they always made sure they had the time.

"So tell me something about you I don't know yet?" she asked as they were halfway along the length of the pier.

"Well what do you want to know?" he asked back, Artimus Bowman never being one for creating idle chit-chat.

"If I knew that then I wouldn't be asking," she laughed in that way he loved so much. "Just…I don't know. Anything. Why did you want to fly, what are they called again, _Raptors_?"

"Simple answer really," he replied. "My grandfather flew Raptors during the war. I wanted to honor him by following in his footsteps."

Artimus Bowman had lived with his grandparents ever since he was thirteen after he ran away from his parent's home. His father had been abusive to both him and his mother and when it was revealed he had been having an affair Artimus couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. His mother stayed with his father however despite her son's pleas.

"I think it's time I met some of your family. It's been going on five months now and you've met mine."

"Yeah, that was a success," chortled Bowman. Brookes' eldest brother was Barry Garner, an Engineer within the Colonial Fleet who had a distinct dislike for two kinds of people; pilots and boyfriends of his little sister. Sadly, Artimus Bowman was both.

"I mean it," she said coming to a stop just before the arcade. "I want to meet your grandparents since you talk about them so much."

"Alright but I should warn you first," he laughed. "My grandfather is like me and only ever wants to talk about Raptors and my grandmother will probably try to feed you up with her chocolate cakes."

"I think I know a bit about Raptors by now," she replied. "As for the chocolate cakes; how about I get in some practice. There's an ice cream stand over there."

Bowman looked over and saw the stand that she was referring to. He smiled and kissed her softly before walking over to get them an ice cream each. He ordered a chocolate one for her and a vanilla one for himself before handing over five cubits and feeling like he had willingly been mugged.

As he turned around he looked back across at Brooke and saw she was no longer alone. A rather scruffy looking man was hovering around her trying to talk to her despite her polite rebuffs. He proved quite persistent on the matter and when she tried to walk away from him towards Bowman he reached out and grabbed hold of her left arm causing Brooke to wince in pain.

Everything went hazy for Artimus. He didn't remember running over to help or dropping the ice cream onto wooden deck of the pier. He didn't remember anything for the span of five seconds or so. It was as if that part of his life was gone. Instead he seemed to jump from standing there next to the ice cream stand to looking down at the scruffy man bleeding profusely and hearing Brookes' screams for him to stop.

As his senses returned he stood up and looked around at the people who had gathered to see what was happening. The badly beaten man lay at his feet with a broken nose, a split lip and eyebrow and was coughing from the blood and tears. All the eyes on the pier were firmly on Bowman and he couldn't be sure why until he looked at his right hand and saw it was bloodied. He wiped the warm red liquid away before realizing that it was not his own blood. His hand had no injuries and it was at that point he knew that he had been the one to beat on the man at his feet.

He looked over at Brooke for an explanation but found her with her back to him sobbing bitterly, more scared than anything else. The Police soon arrived and Bowman was carted off to the station. It could have been the end of his career had it not been for several witnesses who had told the officers what had happened and that the man he had beaten was a known troublemaker. Bowman was let off with a warning.

Artimus Bowman had only one true fear that preoccupied his mind; what would happen the next time he lost control of himself. It had happened before that day on the pier and if he was honest he had let it happen since but that one time was the worst time for him because that was the only time Brooke had ever seen him that way. He wouldn't have blamed her for leaving him but she knew the real man inside and that was the man she had fallen in love with. Still, the incident seemed to hang over him for the rest of their relationship…

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes  
****Bowman's Quarters  
40 Days since 'The Fall' (Present Day)**

Bowman walked through the hatch that led to his quarters before closing it behind him. Once it was sealed he picked up the telephone handset from off the wall and selected the button marked with a '1' before waiting for someone in CIC to answer.

"This is the Commander, have Chief Imlay begin work right away and then send Colonel Dytto to my quarters."

With his command acknowledged he hung the handset back up and made his way across the room to his bookshelf. He had a respectable collection of books aboard Hermes although most of them were factual rather than fiction. While he enjoyed reading novels every so often, he preferred the cold and emotionless logic of hard fact. Many of the books were technical manuals of varying kinds ranging from the mundane to the complex.

As he looked over them his eye fell upon one quite special book. He pulled it out and carried it over to the leather clad sofa that sat perched up against the starboard side wall with a short coffee table in front of it. With one hand holding the book he shuffled out of his duty jacket before tossing it onto the table and proceeding to sit down.

The aged looking book was called 'The Enemy' and was credited as being written by Dr Charlotte Gallivan. Dr Gallivan served aboard the Battlestar Galactica during the last days of the First Cylon War as a psychiatrist. After the war she took a fascination in studying the behavior of the Cylons as had been witnessed following the revolt. On the cover of the book was a rather faded stamp that said 'Battlestar Cerberus Library'. He opened it up and read the inscription that had been hand written and signed by Neveah Ratliff, a movie star who had given him the book while filming a movie aboard the Cerberus when he was XO of that particular Battlestar.

As he skimmed through the pages there was a knocking on the hatch and Bowman called for the visitor to enter while his eyes didn't leave the pages as they flicked through the length of the book. Dytto walked in and stood infront of Bowman.

"You wanted to see me," said Dytto.

Bowman didn't answer right away. Instead he kept looking until finally he found what he was looking for near the back of the book.

"Listen to this for a minute!" he said to Dytto before reading aloud from the book. "How can we label Cylon behavior as unusual? Perhaps it is unusual for subservient, non-sentient automatons to be capable of truly independent actions but the Cylons are not automatons. They were built to be able to function like a Human but with improved strength, agility and intelligence. How then can we honestly describe the Cylon Revolt as being 'unusual behavior' when it is one of Humanity's most basic needs to be free of oppression and tyranny. Perhaps they are more human than we give them credit for?"

Bowman lowered the book to wait for Dytto's response. He didn't have to wait long.

"Don't tell me you're subscribing to that crap Malka was preaching about Cylon _prisoners_?" he scoffed.

"I'm not subscribing to anything of the kind, Caleb," said Bowman. "I'm simply reading from a book."

"Oh yeah, my priest at temple used to say that if you tell someone something through word of mouth then we are more likely to question its authenticity because it is from an unreliable source; a Human being. However if you put it in a book we are more inclined to believe it because a book doesn't appear to be corrupted by emotion and bias."

"Even if you know it to be a load of…crap?" asked Bowman smirking as he quoted his XO.

"Especially then," replied Dytto.

"Your priest sounds like he was a smart man," commented Bowman who had never reserved much room in his heart for religious belief and worship.

"He was Chloe…I mean, Captain Burmeister's father," explained Dytto as Bowman gestured for him to take a seat opposite him which the XO accepted.

"I see. Have you managed to resolve things with her yet?"

"If that's what you called me here to talk about-"protested Dytto to which Bowman raised his hand to cut him off.

"No," he said lowering it. "I can't order you to be friends with people. If I could then I would have had to bring you up on charges a long time ago."

The edge of Bowman's lip curled in amusement. Even Dytto found himself engaging a short, faint chuckle.

"Then why did you call me here?" he asked his Commander.

"Malka!" Bowman explained. "What does your gut tell you about her?"

"Well for one, I don't trust her. I never have trusted the MoI."

"A wise man," uttered Bowman as he placed the book down on the coffee table.

"But then again you know her better than I do."

"I only wish that were true," said Bowman leaning back against the sofa. "Remember what your priest said when you're dealing with her, Caleb; question everything she tells you. She won't come out and lie to you but she will try to mislead you. As long as you keep on the path you should be ok."

"Understood," said Dytto. "If she's not to be completely trusted; why then have you permitted Imlay to start work on fitting the Alexis' FTL to the Eurylade?"

"Because I am going with her to this station she's on about. You will be in command of Hermes until I get back. Your orders are to avoid the Cylons at all cost whilst remaining inside 'Big Red' and effect repairs as best you can to the ship. I'll take a team with me, probably Callisto, Imlay and a few Marines and Specialists for good measure."

"I see," said Dytto before asking in a joking fashion, "And what makes you think I won't just take off with Hermes and leave you for dead?"

"Two things; firstly you couldn't stand it if that was how you got command of Hermes and secondly, I'm confident the crew would shoot you within a second if you tried. This might come as a shock to you but you're not that popular."

"Maybe I should offer them all a pay rise?" said Dytto which caused the two of them to share a long sought after laugh. "I'll speak to their union representative in the morning." That made the laughter become heavier and more heart felt until after a minute or so it subsided and they fell silent once more.

"Seriously though," said Bowman. "Keep your cards close to your chest around the MoI crew. Question everything."

"You make it sound like you're not coming back?" asked Dytto referring to the tone that Bowman was using.

"I guess we will see won't we."

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes**  
'**The Slum'**

Maria Tyler watched as her younger brother slept soundly in their bunk, their miniaturized home aboard Hermes. Although there was effectively no day and night in space the Battlestar operated on a standard daily time unit for the benefit of its crew. Therefore, aboard Hermes it was in effect night time. Even in 'The Slum' things seemed to quiet down as people tried to get what sleep they could.

She stroked his head lovingly in a way their mother used to. In the immediate aftermath of the bombing this was the only way she could get him to sleep. It was now the only thing that reminded him of home. Once she was sure he was fast asleep she lifted her hand up off from his head and rested it in her lap as she sat leaning up against the side of the small space reserved for them. There was barely a minute that didn't go by when she didn't think about her rape by Private Abbott, one of the Marines aboard the Battlestar. Worse still was the knowledge that it may happen again since Abbott's deal with Armand Lee was incomplete.

Hermes wasn't supposed to have been like this for the civilians living onboard, themselves victims of the Battlestar Pegasus as well as the Cylons. When Hermes found the only three surviving ships from the civilian fleet encountered by Pegasus, Bowman had sworn that Hermes was here to help them. It took some convincing for the three thousand people to abandon their crippled ships and come aboard Hermes. As Maria sat there feeling like she was somehow broken by Abbott's assault part of her began to wish she had stayed aboard her ship and died. Only the need to keep her brother safe kept her going now.

That in itself gave her mixed feelings about what she may now have to endure. The protective side of her personality told her that as long as she cooperated with Armand Lee and did as she was told then her brother's safety was almost guaranteed for he would have the protection of the Basileus, a criminal organization whose brutal reputation appeared to have survived the destruction of the colonies and was flourishing aboard Hermes.

She didn't know when it happened but at some point she too had drifted off to sleep. As her head began to fall to the side she awoke with a start and clutched the side of her bunk to stop herself from falling. It was a sensation she had become accustomed to over the past month and she quickly recovered before trying to get back to sleep.

Her bladder had other ideas however as it began to complain of having processed her daily ration of water and was ready to expel the waste. Seeing that her brother was still asleep she dangled her legs over the side before jumping down as quietly as she could not to wake the thirty or so people who shared the small living space designed for eight Marines for only a short period of time.

She stepped outside the hatch and began walking down the corridor that led to the toilets or 'latrine' as the Marines all referred to it. As she walked the short distance she heard a faint baby's cry echoing through the walk space. It was not an uncommon sound in 'The Slum' and like most things here you became accustomed to it. In other words if it didn't concern you then you just ignored it. She reached the hatch that led to the toilet and stepped inside without knowing she was being watched.

Unusually, the toilets were empty. Although efforts were made to keep them clean the truth was the hygiene of the facility left much to be desired. People didn't seem to care as long as they had somewhere to relieve themselves. Having the whole facility to herself she decided to look in each cubicle for what she deemed to be the cleanest one and found it to be the third one from the left. She stepped inside and proceeded to twist the lock over to the right giving her what could be considered as the only place she could truly do anything in private.

* * *

Two Marines walked up to the hatch that led to the toilet where Maria was inside. One of them was Private Dashforth while the other was Abbott. Both had been on patrol through the civilian section of the ship when Abbott had spied Maria stepping out when everyone else was asleep. Abbott had told Dashforth that he and Maria were having sex but he left out the deal he made with Armand Lee. As far as Dashforth was concerned the sex was purely consensual.

"Come on, ten minutes?" asked Abbott.

"Ten minutes!" gasped Dashforth in quite a juvenile manner. "You won't even need three and I can't say I blame you. She's a hot one."

"Come on it's worth one of my last smokes, what do you say?" pleaded Abbott.

"Show me the colour of your paper first," demanded Dashforth. Annoyed, Abbott threw his rifle over his right shoulder and reached into a pocket sown into his black fatigues to produce a white cigarette which he handed to Dashforth. "Ten minutes! If anyone asks I'll say it's closed for maintenance. Go on!"

* * *

Maria flushed the toilet and stepped out of the cubicle. She walked over to the sink and placed her hand under the tap before twisting the handle on the top. A small squirt of water gushed out sprinkling her hand before it cut off. The taps had been set to do this in order not to waste the limited water supply left aboard the Battlestar. The water was more important to the people aboard Hermes as drinking water rather than for washing.

She shook her hands dry as she looked at the young woman who stared back at her in the mirror. The girl looked tired and hurt. Her dark and alluring Tauron features that had attracted Abbott in the first place were now like scars across her face that she felt ashamed of. She hated her natural beauty so much that she wished she could tear it from her body to make herself ugly if only to protect herself from men.

"You are so beautiful," uttered a voice behind her.

The voice caused her to spin around with fright as her eyes confirmed what her ears were telling her. Abbott stood by the hatch that he had closed behind him and was undoing the strap for his Kevlar helmet. He placed the black coloured protective headwear down on the basin before walking slowly over to her.

Maria was terrified. It was a fear she had never known before. Now that she knew what she could expect made it worse than before. Unlike that time however Abbott didn't seem as determined as he walked up towards her. His eyes seemed almost pitiful rather than lust crazed. He walked up to her until he was only a few inches from her.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "I've tried to get hold of you. To talk! That's all I want to do."

Maria's eyes stared at his rifle that sat slung over his right shoulder. Was he going to use it to force her not to resist? Was he already doing that just by showing it to her? These were the things that were running through her head as she found she was backing up against the basin in a subconscious effort to try and escape. He stepped in even closer to her and she could feel his warm breath on her skin causing her to cringe and feel like vomiting.

He placed his hands on her arms in a grotesque act of compassion as he tried to comfort her if only to settle his own disgust at what he was doing. In his mind he was somehow justifying what he was going to do.

"You know that I can look after you and your brother? You know that don't you?"

As his grip got tighter she felt herself shaking in his hands but he didn't seem to notice. He was too busy leading in towards her as he reached to kiss her.

"All you have to do is just-"

He placed his lips on her and she fought the urge to cry bitterly. He kissed her again and again before he slithered his body in close to her. Maria suddenly felt a surge of energy run through her body. She felt such fear that she believed she would catch fire if he kept touching her.

Her knee shot upwards with such violence and force that it impacted into his groin like a sledgehammer. Abbott yelped in pain as he released his grip on her and began to fall backwards. This was her opportunity to escape but she was momentarily paralyzed by fear over the consequences of what she had just done.

In almost blind rage he suddenly threw himself at her. Her head fell backwards over the sink as he collided with her and it landed hard against the mirror shattering it into several shards that fell from the wall. Abbott was now tugging on her clothes trying to get them off to carry out his vile attack. Pinned and unable to move her torso her arms fell down onto the basin. Her right hand landed on top of a long piece of broken mirror that was shaped to a point. As her fingers curved around the piece of mirror the darkest thought she ever had in her life came into her mind before transforming into the signal that raced down to her hand holding the piece of broken reflective glass.

In one quick move she lifted it off the basin and thrust the pointed end into the right side of Abbott's neck. Abbott immediately let go of her as he stumbled backwards trying to cradle the wound. Blood began pouring from the gash in his neck and out of his mouth as his gargled screams rang out. He fell to the floor, drowning on his own blood.

Still holding the broken piece of mirror in her hand she screamed in a volume she never thought was possible. Her screams alerted Dashforth who came rushing in just in time to see Abbott take his last breath as he lay on the floor surrounded by his own blood.

Seeing Maria holding the murder weapon in her hand, Dashforth cocked his rifle and thrust the butt into his shoulder as he aimed it squarely at her head ordering her not to move. Staring at the barrel of the rifle, Maria silently wished for him to pull the trigger and end this nightmare once and for all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Lt. Nester Adrastos  
Cylon Occupied Virgon  
Ninth Day in Captivity**

Nester Adrastos might have awoken in a bed but he had slept very little. His mindset was that he was in enemy territory and this produced a healthy dose of paranoia about closing his eyes. Nevertheless he had found them closing of their own accord as the previous day's events caught up with him. His eyes stared upwards and quite blurrily looked at the wooden planks arching above him that formed the roof of the little hut he had assumed was his home/cell in this place.

There was suddenly a fast paced knocking on the door to his left and he realized that this was what had awoken him. He threw the blanket away from him and kicked his legs outwards and over the sides. He stood up and reached for a t-shirt he had been given to throw over the top of him before picking up his trousers. The knocking thundered on the door for what he now presumed was the third time.

"Alright!" he called out. "I'm coming."

He walked barefooted over to the door and turned the handle. As the door opened, he once again found himself face to face with his enemy – the new face of the enemy. It was that of a tall and slender woman with dark blond hair. Under any other circumstances she would have been considered attractive by Nester but given that she was a machine disguised as a person caused bile and resentment to rise up through the Marine Lieutenant's body.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. It was then he noticed that she was carrying a tray upon which were two covered-over plates, a flask and two small plastic cups. "I brought you breakfast."

"Natalie isn't it?" he asked unsure if this was the Cylon Number Six he had held hostage the day before or whether it was simply another member of her model.

"That's right," she replied smiling. An uncomfortable silence fell over them as Nester was unsure how he should respond to her. He wasn't in the habit of talking to machines except swearing at his car when it broke down. "Well?" she asked after several seconds. "Aren't you going to invite me in? I brought enough for the two of us. I thought we could perhaps have a little chat this morning while we ate."

Nester knew that until he knew more about what he was dealing with then it was better to cooperate and so he stepped aside and she walked in carrying the tray. She placed it down on top of the small chest of drawers next to his bed before she proceeded to pour the contents of the flask into the cups. From the smell that emanated from the cups he identified it as being strong black coffee.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked indicating to the small chair that sat in the corner.

"It's your camp," he stated matter-of-factly.

"That's something of a negative viewpoint. We will have to iron that out of you," she replied as she picked up the chair and carried it over to the drawers that were now acting as a makeshift table for them to have their breakfast.

"Iron it out?" he asked slightly amused at her choice of words. "Is that how you describe indoctrination?"

"Indoctrination is such an aggressive word. I was hoping that in time you would open your heart to our way of life. Come! Eat!"

She removed the covers from the two plates to reveal some chopped Banana on toast with syrup. The sight of it caused Nester's mouth to water. It was his favorite breakfast ever since he was a child and was almost taken aback by the sight of it until he regained control of his senses and concluded that this was part of their goal to 'iron' him out although he couldn't quite figure out how they knew what he liked. Had he revealed it during his interrogation without knowing he had done so and if he had what else might he have let slip?

She seemed determined to stay and eat with him so he walked over to his bed and sat beside the drawer in front of Natalie. The two of them exchanged a deep glance as they faced one another. For her part, Natalie was daring him to take a bite of his breakfast as if she were desperate to prove her good intentions. Nester remained blank in his gaze at her. He saw her as nothing more than a machine and polite conversation over a sweet tasting breakfast was not going to change that.

After a few moments he decided to reach out for the plate she indicated was his. Her hand shot out and intercepted his, holding it over the plate causing Nester's pupils widened in surprise as he sat there unsure of what she was going to do. She gently released her grip and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile before subtly explaining, "I'm sorry. I should have explained that around here we give thanks before eating our meals."

"Give thanks?" he asked.

"Yes, we give thanks to the one true God for providing us with our food."

"I see," he said incredulously as he retracted his hand.

"I doubt it but it's ok. I'm sure you will understand in time." Nester nodded, signaling for her to proceed but he made it clear he would not participate. He would only observe. She accepted the compromise and bowed her head before speaking. "Heavenly father, we thank you for the bounty with which we are about to receive. We ask that you continue to watch over us as we continue to do your work."

She lifted her head and looked at Nester to see how he would respond to the religious display. He looked at her with both a mixture of curiosity and amusement. She picked up her plate and Nester did the same as the two of them once again fell into silence while they ate. Natalie felt that Nester Adrastos was demonstrating extreme levels of rudeness and in truth was a little agitated because of it. Her reasoning dictated that he should be grateful to have been taken out of the custody of the Fives.

"You seem amused by my prayer?" she asked him as they ate the food and drank the coffee.

"I was just thinking about my High School History teacher," he half-explained.

"Did he believe in one God?"

"Hardly! He was a Marine too, during the first Cylon war. He was actually a great influence on my life. He seemed to understand the Centurions a great deal. He told me once that the Centurions would have viewed religion as nothing more than a computer virus because there was next to no evidence to prove it and yet it dictates the way people live. I always found that fascinating and I wonder, as I look at a machine praying, if he was really onto something."

"It shows what he knew," she said quite defensively.

"Oh?"

"The original Centurions were the first ones to believe in the one true God. We don't know what happened to cause it except that God touched them in some way."

The corner of Nester's lip curled upwards. "Or maybe you're God really is a computer virus? Something created by a flawed machine."

Natalie slammed her cup of coffee down onto the chest of drawers. Nester found himself being stared at with a volley of eye daggers. He had clearly touched a nerve and he made a mental note of it for future reference.

"I understand you've been invited to visit Adrian and Megan tonight?" she asked changing the subject subtly.

"Yes," he replied continuing to enjoy his breakfast.

"Well I hope you will be a little more tolerant with them."

"I know my manners," he said finishing the last of his breakfast and as a demonstration he said, "Thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome," she uttered before starting to pack up what she had brought with her. "Before I go there is just one thing I wished to talk to you about. Now that you have been here for over a day I think it is time we started finding your place within our community. Tomorrow morning a team is being sent out into the nearby wood to gather logs for use in construction and fire wood. I was hoping you would participate. Adrian will be going."

"Hmm, aren't you worried I might try to escape?"

"It wouldn't be in your best interests to escape," she explained. "Why do you think Humans survive so easily here? It's because the Baseship is constantly working to cleanse the ground and the air of radiation and help fight off its effects. You can leave here for a short period of time without succumbing to the radiation but after a few days you would start getting sick without any meds."

"So that's why there's a Baseship buried in the middle of all this?" he asked to which she nodded. "I see. Can I think about it?"

"Of course, Adrian has all the details. You can discuss it with him. Good day to you."

"And you," he said as he watched her walk out leaving him a lot to think about as his second day at the village got started.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Brig**

Maria Tyler sat on the small bunk with her head buried between her knees. Her eyes stung from having cried so hard over the last half hour. The image of Abbott's bulged eyes after she had stabbed him with the broken piece of mirror was burned into her memory and his coughing as he drowned on his own blood echoed in her head incessantly no matter how much she tried to block it out. She had taken a Human life and regardless of the reason she would never be the same again.

The Brig on Hermes was made up of numerous small rooms where the prisoners were kept. Each room had two cells which were monitored by closed circuit television cameras and a single Marine guard. Maria's guard was Corporal Fournier, a rather aggressive looking woman in her mid twenties with dark skin and who spoke with a distinctly Scorpian accent. Whenever Maria looked up at her, Fournier would silently curse the young Tauron with such bitter hatred that it sent Maria's head back down between her knees making her afraid to raise it again. None of them knew the truth. As far as they were concerned Maria was a killer and that was the end of it.

**

* * *

**

"That's the bitch!" declared Lieutenant Callisto, the officer in command of Hermes' Marine detachment now that Nester Adrastos was presumed killed in action. "Sorry sir."

Commander Bowman stared at the image of the sobbing young woman sitting in the cell as she was portrayed on the screen. The camera was looking down at her from an angle giving a bird's eye view of the cell below. Looking over his shoulder was Major Galit Malka who had heard about the incident as she was about to board her ship and had decided to investigate it for herself.

"She's a killer?" asked Malka disbelievingly.

"Yes ma'am," said Callisto. "She used a broken piece of mirror glass to stab Abbott in the neck."

"Did anyone see this happen?" asked Bowman.

"Private Dashforth, sir."

"He actually saw what happened?" interjected Malka wanting to get clarification. Her question saw Callisto recoil slightly.

"Well, no ma'am. He was too late to intervene."

"I see," said Malka. "So Private Abbott was alone with this woman in the toilet when she killed him? Dashforth was outside?"

"_Yes_ ma'am," said Callisto clenching his teeth in annoyance as he wondered why he was answering questions from the MoI officer and not Bowman.

"What was Abbott doing in there at the time?" she continued.

"Ma'am?" said Callisto raising his right eyebrow in both confusion and increasing annoyance.

"You heard?" she added.

"I would assume he was using the facilities."

Bowman looked away from the screen at Callisto. "You mean you haven't spoken to Dashforth about it?"

"No, sir," said Callisto feeling foolish. "I had heard that Abbott had been attacked and…Well, sir, I guess I just assumed it was a random act of violence against one of our guys. It's happened before. There are a lot of frustrated people crammed in there."

"I see," said Bowman. "Well then in that case we should question Miss Tyler and Private Dashforth immediately."

"I'll take care of Miss Tyler," interjected Malka before adding to Bowman, "Why don't you talk to this Private Dashforth?" Bowman clearly didn't seem to warm to the idea of her questioning someone. He had experienced her interrogating personality before and she saw his concern. "I give you my word I won't lay a finger on her."

"Alright," uttered Bowman somewhat hesitantly.

* * *

Maria looked upwards and through the bars of her cell as the hatch leading to the brig opened and a woman appeared wearing grey coveralls with the upper half wrapped around her waist to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. The woman walked up to Corporal Fournier and signaled for her to leave but not before taking the key for Maria's cell. Once she was alone with the woman Maria watched through terrified eyes as she walked up to her cell, opened it and stepped inside.

"Hello," she said to the young Tauron woman. "My name is Galit Malka." Maria didn't answer immediately. The words just wouldn't come out. "It's impolite not to say hello when someone greets you. It's ok. I'm not military. So why don't we start by you telling me your name?"

"M-Maria," she stuttered.

"That's better now isn't it? We can be friends can't we?"

Galit walked into the cell deliberately leaving the door open for her to try and escape. Galit wanted to sum up the type of person she was dealing with and this was part of that effort but Maria just remained there too frightened to move. Galit sat on the bunk opposite her. Maria's bloodshot eyes kept locked on her visitor as she held the top of her knees close to her as if afraid that touching Galit would cause her to burst into flames.

"Wh-What do you want?" asked Maria.

"I just want to talk to you about what happened. That's all," said Galit as softly as she could muster. Maria was hardly forthcoming with information. After a few moments Galit started to reach down into a pocket sown into her coveralls just above the knee. "Do you know what I really like? Aurora bars." Galit pulled out a bar of chocolate wrapped in silver foil. She tore open the top of it and took out the chocolate bar inside before breaking it into two, the caramel inside stretching until finally it broke and hung lazily over the top of Galit's fingers. "This is one of my last ones. Here!"

Maria looked at the piece Galit was offering her. The one thought that dominated the young woman's mind was that it was a trap. One thing she had learned with Armand Lee is that nothing comes for free. Nevertheless, Galit persisted and the offer was now interpreted as an order. With a shaking hand she reached out and took the piece of chocolate. Taking the lead, Galit took a bite of her piece and Maria began to emulate it.

"I love caramel," said Galit wondering how she should proceed. She had seen a lot of killers in her time but this one, on face value at least, didn't fit the usual description. "So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

It was a few seconds before Maria finally plucked up the courage to utter the words, "What does it matter?"

"I would think it matters a lot. You're in here on a murder charge. Last time I checked that was a particularly serious one. Thing is you don't seem like a killer so I want to know what it is that caused you to put a piece of broken mirror into a Marine's neck?"

Both women looked into each other's eyes. As she stared into Galit's eyes, Maria felt her confidence transferred into the young Tauron. She took a deep breath as she began to explain what happened not sure what it would be worth. She told Galit everything.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Bowman's Office**

"So you were on patrol?" Bowman asked Dashforth while sitting behind his desk. Colonel Dytto had joined him in the questioning, Bowman wanting a second opinion on everything the Marine had to say. If there was one thing Dytto was a master at it was giving an opinion.

"Yes sir," said Dashforth who looked as nervous as a new bride as he stood before his CO and XO.

"And as you passed the hatch for the toilet, Abbott decided he needed to use the facilities?"

"Uh…Yes sir," added Dashforth with a hint of hesitation in his voice, something both Bowman and Dytto picked up on.

Dytto stared intensely at the Marine as he asked, "Did either of you know Maria Tyler was inside at the time?" Dashforth eyes passed from Bowman to Dytto before back to Bowman again. "Well?"

"Yes sir," said Dashforth. "We saw her go in as we approached."

"Did she see you first?" asked Bowman who was exploring the possibility that Maria's attack was premeditated.

"Uh, no sir. I don't think so."

"So then what happened?"

"Sir, we uh, I mean Abbott wanted to use the toilet and I waited outside for him. The next thing I knew I could hear screaming and I went in and found Abbott on the floor covered in blood."

Bowman and Dytto shared a glance. Both of them were suspicious of the Marine's story because of the seemingly vague detail that was coming from him.

"Who did you hear scream?" asked Dytto.

"It was Tyler's voice I heard screaming," replied the Marine somewhat nervously.

"Tyler, not Abbott?" added Bowman looking for clarification. "Did you hear Abbott make any sound at all after he went in?"

"No sir."

"Is there anything you would like to add to your story?" asked Dytto getting to his feet thus putting the Marine firmly on the defensive. Dashforth looked at both Bowman and Dytto with eyes that seemed to plead for help. He was clearly a man in a frightened daze and as he felt their eyes on him he likened this whole thing to one of those cheesy Caprica City police TV shows where there's a good cop and a bad cop. Dytto was obviously playing the bad cop and with that mentality it was Bowman he felt would be his lifeline in this.

"Well?" asked the Hermes CO. Bowman could sense what part of Dashforth's story was a lie or at least skipped over. "Private, did Abbott go in to the 'head' _because_ Maria Tyler was inside?" Dashforth's face said all Bowman needed to know. "Why?"

"Answer the question!" boomed Dytto when the Marine hesitated.

"He, uh…He was sleeping with her. _Had_ slept with her and he wanted to get some time alone with her."

"Did she consent to it?" asked Bowman afraid of the answer.

"As far as I know, sir, yes."

"Are you frakking sure about that?" uttered Dytto through gritted teeth.

"Yes sir I swear!" blurted the now terrified Marine. For his part Dashforth had never even contemplated the possibility that Abbott had forced Maria Tyler into having sex with him. He had no reason to question the integrity of his friend.

"Is there anything else?" added Bowman compassionately in an effort to get the last bit of information out of him. "Anything at all?"

"No sir," said Dashforth truthfully.

"Very well," said Bowman. "You're dismissed?"

Dashforth stood firmly to attention before saluting and then making his way towards the hatch. As the metal door slammed shut behind the Marine, Bowman turned to Dytto and asked, "Well?"

Dytto seemed to stare blankly into the corner of the room as he replied, "I'll tell you this; my mind is in a dark place right now."

"I know what you mean. We have no evidence that anything untoward happened on the part of Abbott. Let's try and keep an open mind until we know more. Galit should be finishing up with Maria Tyler any minute now."

"Do you really think that one of our Marines behaved inappropriately down there?" asked Dytto almost having to dare himself to do so.

Bowman sighed before answering. "A month and a half ago; no! Definitely not. But let's be honest here for a minute. Our people are only human and a frakking lot has happened since then. Who knows how it's affected certain people. We've all changed since the bombing of the colonies. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just kidding themselves."

"If a Marine has…" Dytto had to swallow before he finished his sentence. "_Raped _a civvy down there then there's going to be a backlash. Even after all this time they still hate the military for what the Pegasus did to their ships."

"Can you blame them?"

"No, of course not but this is Hermes not Pegasus. I'd like to think we've gone a long way to earning their trust by now but this could just blow it all apart."

Dytto's words stung Bowman who felt the weight of the ship come crashing down on top of him. He was therefore half-grateful when they were interrupted by a knocking on the hatch. Half-grateful because he feared who it might be and what news she would have for him.

His fears were confirmed when Galit Malka appeared at the hatch. She closed it behind her and walked up to them. Both Bowman and Dytto sat quietly as they listened to Galit tell them what they had already concluded from their talk with Dashforth. It made both Bowman and Dytto sick to know that one of their Marines had acted so disgracefully. One thing was left out of Galit's report however; Armad Lee. She had decided to keep that little detail to herself and had instructed Maria Tyler to do the same although she didn't explain why.

"So," she said addressing the two of them. "What are you going to do with Miss Tyler?"

"I don't know yet," said Bowman staring at his right hand which was slowly tapping on the end of his knee. "If this was peacetime the Admiralty would decide whether or not charges should be brought. The self defence laws vary too much from colony to colony to have a set guideline I can follow."

"On Gemenon it's legal to do whatever is necessary to protect yourself," said Dytto as vaguely as the law he was quoting from his own colony.

"But on Caprica the law only permits equal force to that of the threat," added Bowman.

Galit threw up her right hand to intervene in the growing philosophical debate. "I think we should clarify a point here. There is no Admiralty or civilian government to fall back on for support. There's just us. This happened on your ship, 'Ace'. You have the final word. The question is can she be reintroduced to the civilian population after she has taken the life of a Marine regardless of how justified the act was? It's completely possible that now she has killed once it might be easier for her to do it again with less stimuli to provoke her."

"You think she might do it again?" asked Dytto.

"There's always a chance," replied Galit.

"Then what do you propose?" interjected Bowman. "We eliminate her? Is that where you're going with this?"

"It's always an option," she quipped with a twisted smile of amusement. Neither Bowman or Dytto shared in her joke. As her amusement faded she spoke up again. "I have a proposal on the matter."

"I'm listening," said Bowman.

"Keep her in the brig for the time being. When this mission is over you can transfer her to the Eurylade and I will help rehabilitate her as best I can."

"How?" asked Dytto but it was Bowman who answered him.

"The Major holds a degree in Psychology," he explained to his XO.

"I suppose I should put it to use," she added. "There's one more thing; she has a younger brother in 'the slum'. I think we should get him out of there while she is in custody. If anything were to happen to him then we could probably kiss any chance of her recovery good bye."

Bowman agreed. "I'll have Lieutenant Callisto go and get him."

"Actually," said Galit. "I was thinking maybe we should go and get him. It might be a good idea if we take a look down there for ourselves. Get a feel for what's going on. What do you say?"

Bowman thought about it for a moment. Part of him had deliberately ignored 'the slum' since the three thousand civilians were crammed in there. He tried to justify it by telling himself that his duty lay in keeping the ship safe and therefore he was looking out for the civilians by default.

But deep down he knew the truth. He didn't want them on his ship. They were something he had inherited from the death of human civilization at the hands of the Cylons and as an officer and Commander in the Colonial Fleet it was his duty to safeguard them made all the more important by the actions of the crew of the Battlestar Pegasus. Having to face the fact that he had practically forgotten about the people down there over the past month was not a pleasant prospect but he knew Galit was trying to make a point with him and so he agreed.

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes  
'The Slum'**

As the hatchway opened, Bowman became overwhelmed by a damp stench from the compartment inside. He saw that everyone in the immediate vicinity of the entrance was looking at him and he made a physical effort not to reach up to pinch his nose. It took a few moments for his nostrils to acclimatize to it but once he breathed it in a few times the edge was taken off and it became bearable.

With Callisto on point, Bowman and Galit stepped inside and began to make their way to the space where Maria Tyler was listed as occupying with her brother. Records were made of where people were billeted when they came aboard Hermes but these records were seldom updated as people moved about either of their own accord or because they had been forced out by others. Efforts to keep track of people inside 'The Slum' were made all the more difficult by the veil of silence the people inside had put up regarding the military.

Now that he was inside what was once referred to as the Marine Barrack Section Bowman no longer recognized his ship. It was as if he had stepped off Hermes and onto some rundown old freighter that had been turned into a refugee ship. There was nothing to indicate that he was on anything as magnificent as a Battlestar anymore. Even the metal in the bulkheads seemed different somehow.

The three of them made their way up one flight of stairs to the level above passing several people who sat on the steps. Some were rocking back and fore out of overwhelming boredom while some were silent as they stared at the strangers with eyes that looked black and empty as if the soul of their owners had somehow bled out of an open wound. No matter where they were in this metal hell they could hear cries or sobs. Mostly they were from the old or the very young, the most vulnerable of those who called this place 'home'.

Walking down a corridor as they neared their destination Bowman saw two children, a boy and a girl, no older than ten years old huddled up playing with a toy car that lacked any of its plastic wheels. At the sight of the Marine Lieutenant and the uniform of the Battlestar Commander, they got up and ran away with a look of fear that stabbed Bowman deeply in the heart. It caused him to rethink how he viewed the uniform he cherished so much. For him it had always been a sign of strength and honor but above all a force to protect the people. Now the people were terrified of it. This was the legacy Admiral Helena Cain had left for the Battlestar Hermes and it had now been made worse by the actions of one dishonorable Marine.

"This should be it, sir," said Callisto as they stopped outside the entrance to one of the many bunkrooms, the serial number above the door matching the details that Callisto had down in his files.

Bowman looked in and found yet more groups of people huddled together. Some looked on at Bowman and Galit with curiosity while others were completely indifferent. It was as his eyes fell to the left that he found a small object completely wrapped up in a blanket that sat on one of the bunks. It moved slightly, almost as if it twitched before giving out a small cough. With Galit watching, Bowman walked over to the bunk until he was standing next to it. Reaching out, he very carefully began to unwrap the blanket that was intertwined over the object underneath that had twitched and coughed. As the last fold was undone there lay in front of the Commander a small boy curled up into a ball with dark stains under his eyes from where he had been crying so hard.

"Hello," said Bowman gently. The boy didn't respond. He just stared up at Bowman refusing to speak. "I bet you're Maria's brother aren't you? Huh? It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. She's very worried about you. Would you like me to take you to her?"

Bowman reached out for the boy which caused him to recoil away like he was being threatened with a knife. Galit quickly intervened. She reached out and tapped Bowman's arms signaling for him to lower them.

"Why don't you come with _me_?" she said pleasantly to the small boy cowering silently in the corner of the bunk that was his and his sister's home. The boy looked at her in her grey coveralls. Although she had military insignia on them they were unfamiliar to the young boy whose eyes kept darting from left to right at the strangers who had come for him. "Come on, let's go see Maria." She held out her hand and waited for him to take it. Rather nervously he began to reach out. The young boy's fingers began to graze the palm of her hand as he experimented with how she would react to him. When he saw that it wasn't some sort of trick he allowed her to reach out and pick him up.

With the small boy clinging to Galit she turned around and began to walk out with him. It was a sight Bowman had never expected to ever see. Galit was one of the last people he ever expected to have paternal instincts. Before he followed he looked back at the people crammed inside. The image of their dirty faces and clothes was being etched into his mind and he was going to carry it with him as he left them.

**

* * *

Faststar Eurylade  
Galit Malka's Quarters**

Keene Barron sat in the chair opposite Galit's bunk inside her cramped quarters aboard the Eurylade, his eyes staring at his left hand slumped onto the table gently tapping an inconsistent tune while Galit herself sat on her bunk with her back against the wall. She had called him here for an update on how the work with the FTL was progressing but instead found herself just wanting his company for a bit. The two of them had been close friends as well as comrades for a long time.

She had only just finished explaining what she had saw in 'the slum' aboard Hermes but Keene's response was largely one of indifference. It was not that he didn't care about people suffering but rather he was stuck in his own circle of both self-pity and loathing. Galit had identified the cause of these feelings quite soon after the bombing of the colonies as survivor's guilt. He hated himself for being alive when those important to him were dead. He still continued to carry out his duties aboard the Eurylade but he was not the man Galit once knew.

"How long until the FTL from the Alexis is ready to install?" she asked him after a rather long silence.

"Bowman's people are still making the modifications needed to make it compatible with our systems," he murmured. "I'd say the earliest we're looking at is first thing tomorrow."

"Good."

"So are you still agreeing to take Bowman and his team along with us?" he asked tearing his gaze away from his hand finally.

"I don't see us having much of a choice, do you?" said Galit. "Bowman holds all the cards in this game. He has the FTL we need to complete our mission."

"What happens when we get to the station and he sees what Division 731 were really developing forty years ago?"

"By then it will be too late for him to do anything about it. We have to play Artimus Bowman the right way on this if we are to succeed. 'Ace' is the type of guy that the harder you push him the harder he pushes back. We have to guide him in gently. Don't you worry about Bowman; I'll take care of him. This thing with the civvies on his ship is a big help. He's going to be so wound up with himself for letting things get so bad there that he will be distracted and that will buy us the time we need to get the work on the FTL done."

"Are you ok with this?" asked Keene. "Manipulating Bowman I mean?"

"That's a rather insidious way to describe it," she quipped.

"You know what I mean," he asked while suddenly noticing that Galit's forehead was glistening in the light.

"Don't worry about me. I'm committed to our mission over everything else," she explained. She saw him staring at her strangely which caused her to ask, "What?"

"Are you sure you're ok? You're sweating a lot."

Galit reached up and touched her forehead feeling the cold, thin veneer of water that sat across her skin under her hairline. She looked at the perspiration on her fingers and knew immediately what it meant.

"I'm tired," she said to him hinting that she wished him to leave her alone.

"Ok," he replied getting the hint. "I'll see you later." He stood up but felt compelled to ask her one more time, "Are you sure you're ok? Do want me to call the Doctor over from Hermes or something?"

"No, Keene," she said smiling understandably. "It's fine. Honest. Just fatigue."

Keene just nodded knowing well enough that when she makes her mind up about something there's no changing it. He left her alone in the room signaled by the shutting of the door. Once he was gone she stood up and pushed across the small latch on the now closed door sealing her inside before walking over to the small safe that sat in the wall beside her bunk. She entered in the six digit code and the safe beeped followed by a loud clunking sound.

Having pulled the thick steel door open she reached inside and took out a small box before carrying it over to her bunk where she sat down. She unbuckled the belt around her coveralls and placed it down on the bunk next to the box. She slowly began peeling the coveralls away from her body noticing that she was now sweating profusely from head to toe. That was to be expected. It had been over eighty hours since the last time she had done this when it was only supposed to be about seventy two hours at most.

Standing in her tank top and underwear she opened the box to reveal a collection of thin medical syringes and a small bottle of clear liquid. She picked up the bottle and a clean syringe before taking the plastic cover off the top of the needle and placing it in the self sealing rubber cap of the bottle. She pulled the plunger of the syringe back until the tube was filled with thirty milliliters of the transparent liquid. She tapped out any air bubbles that were inside before gently placing the bottle and the box on the table opposite.

She took the full syringe with her back to the bunk and picked up her belt as she sat down. Placing the syringe down on her bunk with the needle hanging over the side to avoid anything touching it she took the belt and fastened it around her left arm. As she tightened it the veins began to bulge out of her skin. She placed the end of the belt in her mouth to hold it steady on her arm while she reached over with her left hand and picked up the syringe.

In one quick move she stabbed the end of the needle into a vein bulging from the inner crease of her arm before pushing down on the plunger. The liquid squirted into her bloodstream and she could feel the effects almost immediately. She began shaking and the needle dropped from her hand onto the floor. She released the belt from the hold of her teeth and the leather strap loosened from her arm as she began to drop to the side trying desperately to get comfortable as quick as she could before the drug took complete hold of her. She knew she was over eight hours late taking it and as such it would be a big hit on her system.

Her head hit the pillow as her vision blurred. Her temperature seemed to sore as her skin began to feel like she was on fire. She tried to scream or even just move but she couldn't. She had lost all physical control of her body and she was forced to lay there and silently suffer from the effects of the injection that she had to take every three days without fail.

The alternative was that she would die. Sometimes she wondered if that was preferable.


	11. Chapter 11

**SC-287 Dust Cloud  
AKA 'Big Red'**

The twirling mass of red dust particles arched across the vastness of space illuminated by the nine stars that made up the gravity well that trapped the particles for a total of five hundred and eight square light years. The light from the stars was filtered into a dark red colour that varied in brightness between the brilliant balls of gas that burned brightly inside.

You could be forgiven for thinking that it was just one continuous cloud of thick dust, the remnants of hundreds of centuries of cosmic collisions and destruction. The reality was that the cloud was made up of long strands of thick dust that stretched out for distances that could only be measured practically in light years. Between these strands there were voids of empty space that stretched on for hundreds of thousands of kilometers.

The Battlestar Hermes burst through its Faster-Than-Light jump at the very edge of one of the colossal dust banks. Like an old sailing ship breaking through a sheet of ice the Battlestar punched a hole into the thick dust that broke away from the armoured hull and off into space. Once clear of the dust the Hermes, looking particularly stained from the thin layer that had attached itself to the outer hull of the refugee Battlestar, came to a halt safe in the knowledge that for the time being at least it was hidden from the Cylons.

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes  
Combat Information Centre**

"SITREP!" called out Dytto as he looked at the now limited range on the DRADIS screen hanging over the Operations Desk. The crew began the process of checking the ship's systems either from their own consoles or through communicating with the various departments that made up the mighty warship.

Bowman stood at the Operations Desk staring into a cup of thick black coffee, a luxury these days. His thoughts were dominated by his experience in 'The Slum'. Galit had been right; he needed to go and see for himself the situation down there, he had simply ignored it for too long. He had been laboring under the false belief that if he concentrated on keeping the ship safe then that would be enough but he had overlooked the most basic human needs of having a home, of having privacy and above all having a sense of normality. For the military crew, adapting to this life they had now found themselves living was a relatively easy one. Most of them had spent much of their adult life on a Battlestar, they were used to it.

That was not true for the civilians they had inherited from the Scylla's fleet. This life was not what they had signed up for. They had been spared death for the time being but in order to survive they needed to establish a new existence.

As he looked around at his people working as admirably as they always had he came to a conclusion. It was a conclusion that had been true for a long time; he had just refused to accept it until now when the truth was forced upon him. Hermes was no longer a Battlestar. It was now a colony in its own right. Its government was in-effect a military dictatorship with Artimus Bowman as its President. His quarters served as the Executive Mansion. The sickbay was now the state hospital. They had a military in a constant state of war and a civilian population living in squalor.

In short, there was a lot to do and in his mind he began formulating plans to make changes. He was not a President. He had no experience as a leader of the people but he was a military leader and so decided to tackle it like any other tactical scenario. He thought back to his training at Abry Academy. He knew the scenario, now he had to deal with it.

Firstly; what resources did he have at his disposal? He had a professional and well trained armed forces at his command and despite the discovery of Private Abbott's dishonorable conduct he knew they could be trusted. Abbott was a sad footnote in the Hermes story.

Second; he had the Hermes itself. What was now called 'The Slum' was once intended to house fifteen hundred Marines, half the population that currently lived there. If he crunched the numbers then he only needed to find space for the other fifteen hundred elsewhere aboard the ship. He knew it could never be that clean but it gave him a base with which to begin. Where else could he put them? Despite its size almost every space aboard the Hermes had a function and this problem had been exacerbated by the influx of supplies they had acquired from Scorpia. This moved him onto the third major resource he had in his possession; the Alexis.

It had been something he had considered briefly before but rejected it. The Alexis was not armoured like the Hermes. It would not take much to puncture its hull and if he ever found himself in a firefight with the Cylons and the Alexis FTL went down he didn't want to have to risk men and material trying to defend the Colonial Heavy Liner while it docked for protection. Also, three ships meant three lots of fuel which he certainly couldn't spare. Right now it didn't even have an FTL. That had been removed and was now being fitted to the Faststar Eurylade.

Another factor preventing the relaunch of the Alexis was that three ships meant three lots of fuel which he certainly couldn't spare. This left him the option of permanently keeping the Alexis docked inside the Hermes' starboard Hangar Pod. Again this was not ideal because the Cylons could hit the ship from the openings on either side of the pod. It also meant that the Landing Deck could never be used again for recovering the air wing although that was not really much of an issue anymore since the air wing now numbered less than a third of its peacetime total.

As he thought about the conundrum he remembered something his grandfather said to him once when he was trying to load up the family car for a camping trip in the woods outside Caprica City. 'Its like trying to put six people into five suits'.

"Sir!" said Durand manning the comms station. "Chief Imlay is reporting heavy concentrations of dust in the forward most launch tubes and Landing Decks of both Hangar Pods. Clean up crews are responding."

"Understood," said Bowman taking a sip of the coffee.

Next it was Burmeister to make her report. "Forward gun crews are reporting dust inside the barrels have rendered them unserviceable. It's going to take a few minutes to clear them." Burmeister silently cursed herself for the result of the final jump to 'Big Red'. It was her calculations that had put them into the dust bank. She had been aiming for the void and as the reports were now coming in of the effect the dust was having on the ship she felt a surge of guilt run over her.

Bowman saw this but he knew it was no good for him to 'mother' her and thought it was better to let her deal with it herself. Sometimes a kind word from your commanding officer can feel worse than a first class beasting.

"Don't beat yourself up too hard, Captain," said Dytto to the surprise of both Bowman and Burmeister. Chloe looked over her shoulder in the direction of her XO and effective uncle since she was child. She was half-expecting some sarcastic comment from him but instead he simply added, "Navigational error was bound to creep in sooner or later."

Dytto turned away from Burmeister and back to the DRADIS screen overhanging the Operations Desk. "DRADIS is limited but at least we got a clear picture of our immediate area," he said summing up the picture displayed before him. When Bowman didn't add anything he looked over at the Commander of the Hermes who was staring back at him. The look on Bowman's face Dytto read as being surprised by his comment to Burmeister referring to the recent frosty relationship that existed between them since the discovery of her pregnancy. "What?"

"Nothing," uttered Bowman with a faint and amused smirk before turning to Durand and asking, "What's the status of the work to fit the Alexis' FTL to the Eurylade?"

"One moment, sir," said Durand before calling down to the Hangar Deck.

"Are you still going with Malka to this…this space station of theirs?" asked Dytto in a hushed voice.

"Yes," replied Bowman equally quietly.

"You think that she is just going to shoot off into the sunset never to be seen again once she has the FTL from the Alexis?"

"No," said Bowman with a hint of worry in his voice. "On the contrary, I'm certain she would come back and I'm also certain she would bring the weapons back she promised."

"So why are you going?"

"She's hiding something about that station. When Galit Malka keeps something from you there's usually a damn good reason but there's something different about this. Maybe it's because she is no longer under the control of the MoI, I can't be sure, but that just makes me ask even more questions." Bowman looked deep into Dytto's eyes and the two of them shared a moment where they searched for clarity in a confusing and uncertain universe. "We're all that's left, Caleb. There are probably other survivors out there hiding on the colonies or even in ships that managed to get away but in the here and now it's just us and yet she's keeping secrets from me, I mean us!"

"No, just wait a moment," said Dytto. "You want to know why she's keeping it from _you_ specifically. Now I'm not going to pretend to understand the relationship you guys had on that mission six years ago but you seem to think that her silence is a sign of mistrust on her part. Are you sure that's it?"

"What do you mean, Caleb?"

"Well, I've been told I'm a little paranoid at times and perhaps that's true. But speaking as a paranoid person; how can you be sure that the reason she is keeping something from you is to protect you?"

"Well now that's a frightening thought, Colonel," said Bowman with a slight smirk of amusement.

"I'm just trying to present you with all the possibilities," said Dytto. "Like an XO should."

This was another private joke the two of them shared regarding their past relationship. The two of them nodded in respect to the other before they were suddenly interrupted by Durand.

"Sir, Chief Imlay reports that the FTL from the Alexis has been removed and his team are now in the process of fitting it to the Faststar."

"Very good," said Bowman before turning back to Dytto. "Well I'd better get some rest before I leave. You have the Con, Colonel."

"Aye sir," acknowledged Dytto.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Galit Malka's Quarters **

Galit stood naked from the waist upwards as she applied the tanning cream to her arms. As the cotton flannel smudged the lotion into her skin it left the otherwise milky white flesh a distinctly brown shade. She had finished applying it to her arms from her fingertips upto her shoulders, the result being a significantly darker skin colour. She was now applying it to her face, shoulders and neckline above her breasts.

It was always an odd feeling for her to be concealing herself this way. She had done it many times before during her time in the MoI when it was necessary to disguise her identity. The feeling of it against her skin made her feel like she was inside someone else's body. That was a good thing. Having the right frame of mind was essential to undercover operations.

There was a knocking on her hatch. The sound of a hand banging against the metal door didn't even make her flinch. She was in complete control of her facets and it would have taken a lot to surprise her. She turned her back to the hatch and continued to apply the lotion as the knocks repeated.

"Come in!" she called out in a tone only slightly raised above her normal level.

The hatch opened and Keene Barron stepped inside holding a small bundle of papers. He looked up from them and at the sight of the exposed flesh of her back he stopped as if expecting her to shriek and demand his leaving. It was barely a heart beat before he realized that she was quite oblivious to his presence even while in this state of undress. Nevertheless he closed the hatch behind him not for anyone else to look in.

"I've doctored the orders as you specified," he said to her as she continued to casually apply the darkening lotion. "We've run a computer comparison of the fake signature to Bowman's actual one and it's come up as over ninety per cent. They shouldn't be able to tell the difference." She remained silent. "Galit, if we give these orders to the Marines in 'The Slum' we can just sit back and let _them_ do the work. They won't know the orders have come from us. Why waste the effort?"

She looked back at him from over her right shoulder, her face now a darker tone than normal - Southern Tauron perhaps?

"I have my reasons, Keene," she said with a smile.

"What do you think Bowman is going to do when he finds out?" he asked.

"Artimus Bowman is a rare creature. When I tell him he will be disgusted at first but then, in his own silent way, he will thank me for what I am about to do."

"I hope you're right," uttered Keene. "Bowman outguns us many times over."

"We'll see," said Galit smiling in amusement as she reached for a black wig.

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes**  
'**The Slum'**

Armand Lee sat on his bunk massaging his right leg. It had been giving him some discomfort recently and only the firm pressing of his fingertips into the skin seemed to do anything to soothe it. His right leg had never properly healed from the time he was shot despite the best efforts of his doctor on Canceron, herself on the pay roll of the Basileus Crime Syndicate. It had been almost a year since he was shot during a Government raid on a warehouse used by the Basileus. For most of the time the pain seemed to be almost a faint ache that he barely noticed but over the past few days it had become much more intense. Perhaps it had something to do with what happened to Abbott? He was concerned by the Marine's death and what it might mean for him but it didn't consume him. He couldn't let that happen. If others sensed the fear in the Basileus leader then they might move against him.

There was suddenly a knocking on his hatch before the handle spun around and the door opened to reveal his associate, Raul appear from the other side.

"What?" asked Armand.

"Someone requests to see you," grumbled the grainy voice of Raul.

"I don't want to see anyone," declared Armand. Raul stood aside and allowed Armand to look at the woman who had asked to see him. The woman had dark skin that contrasted nicely with a length of black hair that hung from her head and her clothes gripped close to her athletic and alluring figure. Armand was intrigued. Raul smiled knowing he would be. "Alright, five minutes."

Raul motioned for her to go inside, his lustful eyes examining her as she passed him. Once she was inside Raul stepped back outside and closed the hatch leaving them alone.

"Is this all yours?" the woman asked him looking at the supplies that were stored away on the empty bunks that weren't occupied by either Armand, Raul or Olmos, a blonde Caprican Armand had recruited since coming aboard Hermes.

"Yes," said Armand. "You have a name?"

"Sarah," replied the concealed Galit Malka confidently.

"Just Sarah?"

"It's all you need to know," said 'Sarah' smiling devilishly.

Armand seemed amused by her. "You got stones."

"I'll take that as a compliment. I assume people don't normally tell you what to do?"

"They know better which brings me onto you. I've never seen you before."

"There are a lot of people crammed in here," she replied.

"And yet you know me?"

"Everyone knows you, Armand Lee. Everyone remembers the Basileus."

"You're obviously well informed," he said pleased that he didn't have to go through the ground rules with her. "So what can I do for you, Sarah?"

"I was wondering if I could arrange some protection."

"Protection!" chuckled Armand. "You don't seem the type who'd need it."

"I'm on my own in here. The numbers aren't on my side. My fiancée was on Tauron when the Cylons attacked."

"My condolences," said Armand without a hint of sincerity. "If I decide to give you the protection of the Basileus what are you going to do for me?"

"What do you want?" she asked him.

He looked her up and down again while his leg began to hurt once more, his hand subconsciously proceeding to rub it. "Sit with me!"

She walked over to him and slowly sat down beside him next to his sore leg. He continued to rub his leg as he tried to sum up just what he could get her to do for him in exchange for his help. She was a difficult person to read. He couldn't quite get the gist of her.

"What's the matter with your leg?" she asked. Before he could answer she moved his hand aside and began to rub it for him with her left hand. The movements were slow but firm and Armand winced slightly as the ache seemed to increase in intensity. She slowed down her movements to a pace that was more soothing and relaxing. "Well? What happened?"

"I was shot," he replied.

"Really!" she said feigning excitement. "How? Was it someone you knew perhaps?"

"I don't know his name. It was an occupational hazard back on Canceron."

"How can you be sure it was a 'he'?" she asked grinning. "It could have been a woman."

There was suddenly a fumbling sound from outside that caught Armand's attention.

"What's that?"

"Don't worry about that now," she said holding her hand up to stop him from going any further. "Tell me more about when you were shot?" The fumbling became louder but then suddenly stopped. "Tell me?"

Armand was now both suspicious and very on edge. Something about this whole scene was causing alarm bells to ring wildly in his mind. He tried to get to his feet but she pushed him back down onto the bunk, adding pressure to his weaker leg to force him to cooperate.

"Who are you?" he asked, "really?"

She began to rub his leg once more but now the movement was almost a threatening act in itself.

"It was almost a year ago," explained Galit. "It was on Canceron. You were cowering down and I had your head in my crosshairs. As I squeezed the trigger you stood up and your thigh was where your head should have been. I tried to reacquire you but time was my enemy and I had to withdraw."

"What?"

"I never thought I'd get another chance. Guess the Gods smiled on me."

She thumped her clenched fist down on his leg and he screamed in pain. He instinctively threw her off him and tried to get to his feet but the throbbing pain caused him to stumble forwards and up against the adjacent bunk before slumping down onto the floor. He turned over to look up at her standing over him looking down with delight. It was as if he were a wounded animal that had been found by a predator looking for an easy meal.

The round handle for the hatch began to spin through a full rotation. Armand looked over expecting to find Raul or Olmos coming to see what the commotion was but instead he found himself looking up at a man he didn't recognize wearing grey coveralls and holding a drawn pistol. He clearly knew this woman 'Sarah' since he was focused on Armand almost ignoring her.

Armand's heart began to race with fear. It was obvious to him that his days were numbered by whoever these two were. He wasn't going to go down without a fight however. It was not courage but rather it was more like clinging on to the chance of surviving no matter how remote the possibility may have been.

"Who are you?" he asked as he sat up with his back against the bunk. His right hand was inching slowly behind him trying to feel for the grip of his own gun that he had tucked into his trousers and covered by his shirt. It was the gun he had acquired from Abbott and in doing so had sealed his fate.

"That doesn't really matter now does it," said Galit. "All that matters is whether you walk with us or we drag you. Which is it?"

His hand found the grip and his fingers formed around it. Once he was sure he had a good grip he pulled it out with all his strength and swung it around at the man in the grey coveralls.

A gunshot rang out through the corridors of 'The Slum' - Armand's little kingdom.

Armand Lee's body slumped to the floor. Blood spewed from his mouth from where Keene Barron had fired a single bullet severing his spine at the back of the neck so that Armand's brain couldn't send the signal to his hand to pull the trigger. The bullet had gone out the other side of Armand's head spilling blood over the contraband he had stolen from the people in 'The Slum'. The now dead body of Armand Lee just sat lazily on the floor.

Galit walked over to the lifeless body, his eyes still opened and staring into nothingness. She knelt down infront of him and looked into his face examining every feature of it as it sat there.

"The last of the Basileus," she uttered to herself.

"Galit," said Keene still holding his smoking gun in his right hand. "Galit, we need to move quickly."

"I know," she replied before she stood up and looked at her partner and friend. "The other two?"

"Subdued but alive."

"Alright then. Let's get going. Bag him!"

Keene turned and stepped back outside calling two Marines in to collect the body. Each of the Marines had been issued with orders apparently signed by Bowman. There was no way for them to know that they were fabricated. Galit had made sure that Lieutenant Callisto had not been given a copy of the orders or was made aware of the operation because she knew he would go to Bowman.

With Armand Lee's body bagged up and Raul and Olmos handcuffed and hooded the MoI team and the Marines who had unknowingly been drafted made their way out of the Hermes' slum. Everywhere, people talked in hushed voices about what had happened. Each had their own version of the story but the basic fact remained the same; Bowman had eliminated the Basileus. If Hermes really was its own colony then clearly it had its own secret police force in the shape of Galit Malka and her MoI agents.

In truth nothing had changed for the people of 'The Slum'. They still lived in fear except now that fear was transferred away from Armand Lee and his thugs to Bowman and his people. Fear was a weapon and a tool and was one that Galit was well versed in using. She knew that Bowman wouldn't have approved of what she had done but she knew, in the long run, he would be grateful.

**

* * *

Lt. Nester Adrastos  
The Monotheist Camp  
Cylon Occupied Virgon**

Nester Adrastos lay on _his _bed inside _his _cabin within the camp. He had spent the day walking around becoming familiar with his new surroundings and the people who lived there with him. He had thus come to the conclusion that this was probably the most surreal experience of his life. When the war, if the holocaust wrought by the Cylons could be called that, started he never expected he would end up in a camp filled with Monotheist Cylon collaborators. It made little sense to him logically but he understood some of it on a religious level. These Cylons seemed to truly believe in this one God of theirs and as such they had embraced these humans, their great enemy, as being almost kindred because they too believed. As Natalie had put they had been touched by this God as well. Nester chuckled to himself slightly as he thought he had become the robot not being able to accept a God while the Cylons openly embraced it.

His eyes rolled to the right and saw that the sun was going down. It was almost time for him to go and have dinner with Megan Jordan and her Cylon, the Number Five named Adrian Doral. He sat up and reached for his jacket that rested on the back of the chair beside his bed.

It was a brisk and cool evening as Nester stepped outside. A gentle mist had rolled in over the camp obscuring the arms protruding out of the semi-buried Baseship. As he walked towards Adrian and Megan's cabin he encountered only a few people scattered here and there. It seemed the majority of people were tucked up inside their cabins trying to keep out the cold. Even the Cylons seemed to be keeping indoors except of course for the Centurions who continued their seemingly endless patrols of the camp.

Adrian and Megan's cabin sat on the opposite end of the camp. The twenty or so minutes it took Nester to walk there made him realize just how big the camp was. Adrian and Megan's cabin was significantly bigger than Nester's. It was an L-shaped structure built out of logs with a stone chimney running up the side from which a thin string of smoke snaked upwards into the cold air.

As he walked up to the building he began to wonder why the Cylons had elected to live with humans in these settings. Surely it made more sense to live on the Baseship or perhaps in a village or town the Cylons had 'requisitioned' as part of the spoils of war. Villages like Pikeston on Scorpia which he visited during the operation the Hermes took there were relatively intact apparently having been cleared the old fashioned way – Centurions with rapid firing guns.

Nester knocked on the front door three times before waiting for an answer. He heard rummaging coming from inside as if the occupants had been caught off guard. He cocked his nose momentarily as he silently hoped he hadn't interrupted them engaging in activities he never thought a Cylon and a woman could or should be capable of.

A bolt clicked on the other side of the door and it opened bathing Nester in light from inside. Megan Jordan stood in the doorway looking slightly short of breath as she brushed her untidy dark brown hair from her face.

"Hello," she said beaming before stepping down and kissing him on the cheek.

"Am I early?" he asked noting how ill-prepared she looked.

"No, no, no not at all," she replied motioning for him to come inside. "I'm just finishing up dinner."

As he stepped inside the house the smell of cooking filled his nostrils wafting in from behind the door that lead to the room on the far side that gave the building its L-shape. The house was a simple affair with modest furniture consisting of a sofa and chairs around the fire that seemed to make up the living room. Behind them was a short wood table big enough for four adults to sit and eat comfortably around.

"Is Adrian here?" asked Nester.

"No, he's on the Baseship attending to some business," said Megan closing the door behind them. "He hates going there. It doesn't feel comfortable to him anymore."

"Oh right. What kind of business, if of course I can be trusted to be told such information?"

Megan smiled in amusement at him. "You still think of yourself as a prisoner, don't you?"

"I am a Colonial Warrior being held against my will by an enemy force," declared Nester. "No matter how this place is dressed up, to me it is still a prisoner of war camp."

"Well I hope that one day you will come to see it as home," she said trying to smile despite Nester's frosty exterior.

"So everyone keeps saying. It seems that the Cylon's would like me to convert to their beliefs. Do you want me to convert?"

Megan sensed she was being tested by him, perhaps even interrogated. She therefore chose her words carefully.

"I would hope that one day you would come to embrace the true God," she said passionately. "Not the false Gods who have ruled over humanity for centuries, the same Gods that allowed us to drive ourselves to destruction."

"I see," said Nester not too convincingly.

"You don't," she replied understandingly. "Not yet a least but that's alright. Would you like a drink?"

"Uh, yes please."

"Brandy? It's from Virgon."

"Yes, thank you."

Megan walked over to a small cabinet beside the table while Nester stood and observed her. Part of him was still not convinced that she was human. The part of his mind that controlled his paranoia was screaming to him that she might be a plant of some kind intended to get him to cooperate for whatever reason they had in mind. The more he thought about it the more he began to realize that they all could be Cylons. He had no way of being sure.

Megan began to pour the brandy into two small glasses before walking with them back to where he was standing.

"Thank you," he said taking one of the glasses. "Cheers." The two of them toasted one another and began to take a drink. Nester watched her from the corner of his eyes as she drank it. Her face twisted in a mix of disgust and delight at the taste of the alcoholic liquid. She was clearly not used to drinking spirits of this caliber and it amused the two of them.

"I'm more of an Ambrosia drinker," she uttered somehow feeling she had to explain her reaction to him.

"I can tell. Megan, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Why Adrian?"

"You mean why would I want to be intimate with a Cylon?" she asked breaking down his question to its foundation. Nester nodded. "He's unlike any man I ever met," she explained with beaming eyes full of love.

"You do know," he started carefully. "He's not…"

"Not human," she finished for him. "It's merely semantics as far as I am concerned. He may have been artificially created but is that so weird? We've had artificial insemination for centuries."

"That's different," protested Nester carefully minding his tone and his manners.

"Is it?" she retorted showing her youthful and rebellious side as clear as day. "Semen and eggs are removed from the parents and are put into a little pot where they are forced to fuse together. How can you call that natural? Is the baby at the end any less human than you or me? Of course not."

"I suppose so," said Nester before taking another sip of his brandy. "So is that how they made the human Cylons?"

"Oh you'd have to ask Adrian or Natalie about that," she replied. "I'm no good at that science stuff. But to answer your earlier question fully; the truth is I've had some…_bad_ experiences in the past with men."

"Like what?" he asked without thinking.

She took a deep breath before answering. "Over a year ago I was kidnapped while I was on vacation. They…did things-"

"I'm sorry!" blurted out Nester throwing his hands up to allow her to stop. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No it's ok," she said with a polite and somewhat forced smile. "I'd like to tell you this. Perhaps you will understand more about why I am here with Adrian." Nester nodded his approval for her to continue. "After it was over and I went home to Caprica I didn't feel the same again. It was like the old me, the spoiled brat, was gone and I had a new outlook on life. I-I hated everything. I was angry at my parents. I was angry at my friends but most of all I was angry at the Gods. I just seemed to drift from one day to the next. Then I met some people, monotheists, and they took me to a few of their meetings. I felt so at home with them like I had always belonged there in God's _bosom_ if you like. That was when I met Adrian. I never thought that I could stand having a man touch me again but his was so soft and tender and I felt like he was genuine. Yes, I know now he's not really human but I don't care. He unlocked my heart."

For Nester it was all beginning to make sense. In his mind it was a case of a young and vulnerable woman having been taken advantage of by these Cylons and their monotheist collaborators. The positive was that she had survived the holocaust and in her mind at least she had found love. Was that necessarily a bad thing? Nester decided it was not his place to judge. He could understand her feelings and why she had taken to a Cylon rather than a man no matter how distasteful it might have seemed to him as an 'objective' observer.

Suddenly his nostrils twitched. "Do you smell something burning?"

"Oh no!" gasped Megan as she went running into the kitchen from where a plume of smoke and steam gushed through the now open door. During the time they had been talking Megan had forgotten about the food she had been preparing.

Nester stood in the doorway to the kitchen waving the smoke away from his eyes as he watched her turning off the cooker and trying to assess the damage. As the smoke cleared he could see that what were once fresh vegetables were now black from being burned quite thoroughly. Dinner was definitely ruined.

As Megan finally grasped the full extent of the damage she threw her hands to her face in disappointment while quietly cursing her absentmindedness. Nester politely stifled an amused smirk.

"Wow!" gasped a voice from behind Nester. "What happened in here?"

Adrian Doral had entered the home totally unnoticed thanks to the commotion in the kitchen with the burned food. Nester turned and saw the face of the man who had interrogated him aboard the Baseship and although not the same Number Five specifically his heart still jolted at the sight of those eyes.

_Are you ready to surrender?_

Nester quickly composed himself as he watched Adrian walk up to Megan and embrace her sympathetically. Like Nester, Adrian was a little amused by Megan's cremated food.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled from being buried into his shoulder. "I've ruined dinner."

"It's ok," Adrian added kissing her on the forehead. "I'll head back over to the Baseship and get something."

Nester's military mind suddenly kicked in. Perhaps if he could board the Baseship with Adrian it might provide him with some vital intelligence perhaps even locate some kind of armory for future acquisitions. He was sure he could put up with this Doral for a little while.

"I'll help," Nester interjected.

"Uh, there's no need," said Adrian still clutching Megan. "I can do it."

"I don't mind," Nester persisted.

"No, it's ok. Besides there are some of my people who aren't too comfortable with having humans onboard the Baseship."

"I see," said Nester. "And here was me thinking we were all friends here?"

"We _are_," emphasized Adrian, "but prudence demands some security measures be kept intact. As a military man I'm sure you understand."

Adrian had just confirmed what Nester suspected; the Cylon hand of friendship only extended a certain distance. Such seemingly small facts were all accumulating inside Nester's head as he continued to gather up intelligence. He was a prisoner of war and the first duty of any prisoner is to escape.

**

* * *

Battlestar Hermes  
Starboard Hangar Pod  
Extra Vehicular Activity (EVA) Airlock No.17**

While their transit through 'The Slum' had been quite public, Galit, her eight man team along with their prisoners had been quite discrete about moving through the rest of the ship. The body of Armand Lee had been put into a storage box that sat on top of a trolley while Raul and Olmos, their hands still restrained but their hoods now removed since they were in unfamiliar parts of the Hermes, were made to walk the distance to what they believed was the brig.

They had taken an unnecessarily long route over to the Starboard Hangar Pod that was now becoming increasingly empty as Chief Imlay had begun to consolidate the remaining air wing on the Port Side Pod for ease of maintenance. The Starboard Pod was now becoming an immense storage facility for spare parts cannibalized from damaged ships. This route allowed them to avoid as much of the crew as possible and those they did see paid only little attention to them being too busy with their own work. A few crewmembers were inquisitive enough to ask questions but they were simply flashed a copy of the faked orders from Bowman and ordered to remain silent.

As the airlock came into sight both Raul and Olmos realized what was happening. Using his intimidating size, Raul tried to fight off his captors but Keene threw out his right foot, kicking Raul in the back of the knee causing it to bend forwards and sending the giant crashing to the deck plates. Olmos was much less of a challenge and the MoI team moved the two of them inside the airlock before opening the storage box and dragging out the body of their dead boss.

Galit watched as Keene Barron and Chad Teuton threw the limp body down onto the deck next to Raul. Olmos was shaking terribly from fear as he stood next to his two associates. As he watched Keene and Teuton leaving through the inner hatch the final realization that he was going to die set in. Uncontrollably, his bladder relieved itself from fear. It was a pathetic sight.

Keene closed the hatch behind him while Teuton worked the control panel that he had torn from the wall. Unlike a Viper Launch Tube an EVA airlock has to be opened and closed by the personnel conducting the EVA from a panel inside the small chamber. Since Raul or Olmos were hardly going to volunteer to do it themselves this procedure had to be overridden by the MoI agents.

"We're ready," announced Teuton.

Galit peered in through the thick window built into the inner hatch. Olmos was now sobbing bitterly while Raul was screaming all kinds of curses at her. Armand Lee's body remained motionless.

"Do it!" she ordered.

Teuton attached the two pieces of wire together that triggered the rapid decompression of the chamber before the outer hatch swung open. The decompression had been a lot faster than would normally occur and the rapid escape of air into the vacuum of space blew the three men out into space never to be seen again. It was as if they were being erased from existence.

"The last of the Basileus," Galit chanted once more.

The crime organization founded by Carl Tolan on Canceron over sixty years earlier that had survived assassination attempts, rival gangs, bombings and even the best efforts of Galit Malka had now finally come to an end by three men being airlocked from the refugee Battlestar called Hermes.

**

* * *

Author's Note**

**I know that compared to Battlestar Hermes: Salvage the updates for Faststar seem to be few and far between. Work and family commitments have changed dramatically in the past year and sadly this is leaving little time for my writing. I know that a few people have been wondering when the next chapter was going to be uploaded and I hope it was worth the wait. Please be patient and thank you for following the story. **


	12. Chapter 12

**The Monotheist Camp  
Virgon**

Adrian Doral insisted he walk with Nester back to his cabin despite Nester's repeated reassurance that there was no need. Nester Adrastos had spent over an hour and a half with Megan and Adrian. What had started out quite disastrously with burned vegetables had turned into a reasonably good evening once Adrian had returned from the Baseship with ready made food for them. Even Nester forgot on several occasions that he was having dinner with a Cylon and began to enjoy the company although memories of his experience under interrogation often came flooding back. This up and down feeling through the night had left Nester quite disoriented emotionally.

The night air was cold and cut deeply into Nester's exposed skin around his hands and face. As they walked, much of the time in silence, Nester noted how Adrian seemed to feel the cold as much as he did. The question on the Marine's mind was whether or not Adrian was merely simulating the act of being cold or if Cylons genuinely felt it?

"Cold tonight?" said Nester as off-handedly as he could.

"Certainly is," uttered Adrian. "It gets like this around here now. The bombs our forces dropped disrupted the natural climate of the planet so now it's-"

"A nuclear winter?" interjected Nester quite bitterly.

"Nothing as dramatic as that but close," explained Adrian. "I understand that you will be joining us on the logging party tomorrow?" Nester nodded. "Is it because you see it as a chance to escape?"

"Where would I escape to?" asked Nester trying to hide the fact that the thought had crossed his mind but now that he knew there were other PoWs here like himself he knew he had to stay and lead them. It was his duty.

"I wouldn't advise it," added Adrian. "Virgon's climate isn't what it used to be. Plus there are other dangers as well."

"Such as?"

"Well, excluding the fact that the Baseship is the only thing making sure we don't succumb to radiation poisoning in the local air and the soil there's also the threat of the resistance."

Nester stopped still. "Resistance?"

"Yes," said Adrian turning around to face him. "They are as much a threat to you as they are to us. It won't be for much longer though. Our forces are clearing them out even as we speak. We simply can't tolerate that threat."

"Why would the resistance be a threat to me?" asked Nester.

"Well for one thing you live here. How are they going to know that you're not one of our people, at least not by choice anyway?"

"Fair point," commented Nester as they continued their journey back to Nester's cabin. Nester's mind soon wandered onto the subject of Megan. "The two of you seem quite happy together, all things considered of course."

Adrian knew what he was referring to. "Yes, well, I like to think she's happy with me here, happier than before anyway. She had all she could ever want materialistically, her parents were quite well off financially but they lacked any real emotional committment to their daughter. I think being with us is the first time she's ever experienced real love."

"I can see why it would be so appealing to someone like her," commented Nester.

"You still think it's all part of some insidious plan don't you? It's not, I promise you. I love Megan more than anything in this universe. Do you know how rare it is for a Cylon to experience love? It's almost totally unheard of and yet when it grips us it consumes our evey being. It must have been something installed in our genetic make-up to insure that when we find love we do our best to hold onto it. In some ways it makes it purer than what you might call normal love."

"You mean the kind of love a human might experience?" asked Nester finding a flaw in his argument. "Where does that leave Megan? Is your love for her purer than hers for you? That doesn't seem very fair, on you I mean."

"Our love is reciprocal. Pure. I pray that one day you will experience that kind of love for yourself. Only then will you understand."

"Well here's to hoping," said Nester with a nod as they arrived at his cabin. "Ok then, well I guess I shall see you tomorrow. Eight o'clock, right?"

"On the dot," said Adrian holding out his hand. Nester was a little reluctant at first but nevertheless he accepted it and the two of them shook once. "Good night."

"Good night," replied Nester before turning away and stepping back inside his cabin.

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes**  
**Bowman's Office**

Artimus Bowman's desk was a mess of progress reports. He had spent the last hour and a half going over every detail he could get a hold of before making notes on a spare piece of paper to try and establish the best mental picture of his ship as he could. Some of it made for grim reading as Hermes was in desperate need of some repair time. The snipes and indeed the entire crew had made a gargantuan effort to keep the ship operational as best they could and they had succeeded upto now but it was obvious that unless some serious repair time was put in then soon Hermes would break.

Now that they were safely tucked away inside 'Big Red' they had that opportunity. Even if the Cylons knew where they had retreated to it would take them months to scour the dust cloud to find the refugee Battlestar. The first priority was of course the faltering FTL drive that had been damaged carrying out the FTL Hiccup during the operation above Scorpia. Already the engine room were busily taking it apart and carrying out the vital maintenance checking every nook and cranny of the system they knew so well and was the key to the ship's continued survival perhaps even more so than the guns and Vipers that made up their defenses.

While having a good knowledge of the status of his ship was important, Bowman was actually going through the reports for another purpose altogether. He was looking for something he could use to help alleviate the situation in 'The Slum'. He needed to relocate at least a third of the people there, some one thousand in total, in order to at least begin to address the biggest problem facing the ship - overcrowding.

Dozens of possibilities ran through his mind as he went through the reports. He reconsidered the Alexis once more but again rejected it. The ship was simply too vulnerable to attack even while docked in the Starboard Hangar Pod. At one point he thought about converting some of the lesser used corridors into temporary accommodation but they were few and far between and at best this offered a solution for about three hundred people which was not nearly enough.

Again his mind wandered back to the Alexis docked on the Starboard Landing Deck. He didn't know why but something was telling him the answer was there.

"Starboard Landing Deck," he uttered to himself as he leaned back into his chair and rubbed his forehead. "We can't land anything while the Alexis is docked there. Perhaps it's time we got rid of the Alexis?"

In his mind's eye he saw his crew dismantling the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis and stripping it for parts before setting the gutted hulk adrift in space. It still didn't seem right somehow and it did nothing to help with the primary problem occupying his mind; the civilians.

A thought then suddenly occurred to him. He began scurrying through the papers he had already read through looking for the seemingly unimportant note he had seen earlier. When he finally found what he was looking for he held it up and began to read the otherwise mundane report from Chief Imlay.

_Viper Two-Seven-Seven needed to have new FADEC interface as old one has burned out. Sent Specialist Gorseinon over to Starboard Hangar Deck to get one from scrapped Vipers..._

Bowman placed the note down separate from the others before once again diving into the mound of paperwork in search of more of Chief Imlay's reports. After another twenty or so minutes he had accumulated ten reports all of which stated that Chief Imlay was sending his knuckledraggers over to the Starboard Hangar Deck to get parts from damaged Vipers and Raptors being stored there. It seemed Chief Imlay was using the Starboard Hangar Deck as a scrapyard since the Alexis had taken up residence there and consolidating the air wing's operations from the Port Hangar Deck. Given that the air wing was now down to less than a third of it's peacetime number this was a feasable option. With this fact in mind, Bowman reasoned that there must have been space left over on both Hangar Decks.

He stood up and walked over to the intercom handset that sat perched on the wall. He picked it up and pushed the button marked '1' which connected him with the CIC. Petty Officer Durand answered the call and Bowman ordered, "Patch me into Chief Imlay aboard the Eurylade."

"Yes sir," replied Durand before the line went silent except for an intermittent beeping sound indicating he was being connected. A few moments later and the line was picked up once more.

"Imlay here," reported the Chief's voice.

"Chief, give me a SITREP."

"Well sir," started the Chief. "We've removed the Eurylade's FTL and we're currently in the process of fitting the one from the Alexis. We're having to modify the bracket that holds the spool in place since the Alexis' is slightly bigger. We've also had to reroute the Tylium fuel line because the valve is on the opposite side to the original. Then it's a case of matching the fuel transfer rate to the one required for the new FTL. In short, sir, we're looking at another ten to twelve hours and that's if I bust a few balls to do it."

"Understood Chief. How are the Eurylade's crew reacting to you being onboard?"

The Chief's voice seemed to tone down which made Bowman think that some of the Eurylade's crew were nearby. "They're not the most talkative bunch, sir. It seems to be a case of them and us over here. They're not offering any resistance to our being here but they're not exactly baking cookies either and offering us glasses of milk if you know what I mean?"

"And Malka?" asked Bowman almost daring himself to raise the question.

"I haven't seen her in a few hours. Or Keene for that matter. I think they're preparing themselves for departure."

"I see," uttered Bowman. "Chief, there's another matter I want to bring up with you."

Bowman spent the next few minutes discussing the situation on the Hermes' Starboard Hangar Deck with his Deck Chief. Imlay confirmed that he had been using the Starboard Hangar Deck as a place to store spares while he consolidated his efforts on the Port Hangar Deck which eliminated a lot of the headaches that came with running two such huge facilities. The reduced air wing also meant that there was now an abundance of knuckledraggers to go around and so the 'spares' were being loaned to other departments for repairwork.

"If I may ask, sir, why the interest?" asked Imlay hoping to cut the conversation short so that he could get back to work on fitting the Alexis' FTL to the Eurylade.

"Before we depart aboard the Eurylade for the MoI space station I want you to issue the following order to your people. They are to begin transferring all equipment and spares from the Starboard Hangar Pod over to the port side. They are then going to dismantle the launch tubes to be used for spares to keep the port tubes operational and then seal up the launch bays for good so they cant be opened. By the time they're finished I want the entire Hangar Deck devoid of any military equipment of any kind. I just want one immense empty space, clear?"

"Yes sir," said Imlay flabbergasted at what he was hearing. "But sir, if I may ask?"

"Just organize it for now," said Bowman. "I'll be leaving additional orders with Colonel Dytto for what to do next."

"Yes sir," said Imlay.

"Carry on, Chief," ordered Bowman before hanging up the handset. Bowman walked back to his desk rubbing his forehead as a headache began to form and intensify in his skull. He seemed to stumble back into his chair before leaning back with his head tilted over the top.

Now that he had set a plan into motion he began to wonder just how effective it would be. Putting them in there was one thing but again it wasn't enough. That whole section of the ship now had to be turned into accommodation fit for human habitation. Although he tried to concentrate on the problem his mind kept wandering back to a time when he didn't feel like he was now the President of his own poverty stricken colony.

**

* * *

**

Delphi, Caprica

**Five Years before 'The Fall'**

"Well, what do you think?"

The real estate agent stood in the entrance to the empty fifth floor apartment that Artimus Bowman and Brooke Garner were considering buying with a smile that Bowman mistrusted greatly. He had been accused many times of being quite a miserable person and so it would come as no surprise to anyone who knew him when he would say that he didn't trust people who smiled too much. The agent, a dark haired woman in her mid forties complete with blue blazer and a clipboard, smiled in a way that made Bowman feel like she was desperate for them to say yes.

"It's perfect," declared a beaming Brooke without discussing it with her partner something that caused Colonel Artimus Bowman, a Raptor Instructor pilot, to glare at her accusingly.

"It's a lot of cubits for very little space don't you think?" he asked her.

Before she could answer, the estate agent quickly jumped in. "It's a reasonable price given the location and the current market."

"I see," said Bowman unconvinced as he examined the bright white walls.

"It's still more space than at your place," added Brooke.

"I guess so," mumbled Bowman now feeling like he was stuck on the wrong end of a classic pincer movement carried out by the two women.

"Tell you what," said the estate agent. "Why don't I leave you two alone to discuss it and get a feel for the place?"

"Thank you," said Brooke and the two of them watched as the women left through the front door. As soon as the door shut she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she kissed him. "I wish you'd at least pretend to enjoy this," she said to him between kisses referring to the fact that he loathed everything about home hunting - particularly the money side of things. "We both agreed that if we were going to live together then we needed more space than at your apartment."

"Well you do have a lot of shoes," he joked with an amused grin. "I've only got three pairs and one of those I never wear."

"Come on be honest," she pleaded. "What do you think of this place, really? Ignore the price for a minute."

Bowman thought for a moment before answering, "It's...ok."

"Oh you're doing it all wrong," she said as she dropped her arms and began to walk around their potential new home. "Don't look at it for what it is. Look at it for what it will become." She walked over to the far corner of the living room next to a large window that looked out over the city. "See, right here we could put my desk for when I'm working at home so the light doesn't shine on my computer screen but I can still look out at that view for inspiration."

"Or to watch the Pigeons crapping on my car parked outside," added Bowman quite dryly before breaking out into a muffled laugh. Brooke just shot eye daggers at him before continuing onwards undeterred. She walked over to the wall opposite where her desk would go and stared at it for a moment.

"Here is where the TV could go and next to it we could put some shelves up with your little Raptor models on the top. Is any of this getting through to you at all?"

Bowman's amusement seemed to grow even more with her which caused her nostrils to flare angrily. It was then that he realized what was going on. For him, having to move again was an annoyance he could happily live without. It was hardly a new experience for him since being in the military meant he was often moving from base to base or even onto a Battlestar for a few months. For the younger Brooke however, it was her first time that she was properly moving into a place she could call her own. She was full of dreams and aspirations about how it would look and what it would be like living there. It was that youthful enthusiasm that she enjoyed so easily and Artimus Bowman seemed to have lost somewhere along the way.

"You really got your heart set on this place?" he asked wanting to make sure she wasn't just settling on it. She smiled and nodded. "Alright, alright get her back up here so we can sign those papers. Quickly, before I change my mind."

She seemed to jump onto him as she launched into a kiss once more before whispering to him, "You wont regret this, I promise."

He never did. He and Brooke lived happily in the apartment up until the day the Cylons returned to the colonies. Whenever someone ever said the word "home" that was where his mind would always wander to.

**

* * *

**

Bowman's Quarters  
Present Day

The memory ended with a sharp jolt in his chest. It was a cruel reminder of not only the world he had lost but the woman he would never see again. It was clear to him that deep down he still hadn't accepted what had happened. He had spent the past month on a Battlestar in space and so had not seen the devastation with his own eyes. Therefore in his own mind there was no concrete evidence it had happened at all and the result was the blurring of the line between hope and ignorance.

As he sat there he wondered how he would change when he finally came to terms with the destruction of human cvilization. Would it change him beyond recognition?

**

* * *

**

Lt. Nester Adrastos  
**The Monotheist Camp, Virgon**  
**Tenth Day in Captivity**

The early morning sun cast grey beams across the sky as it filtered through the dark clouds overhead. It was another cold day on Cylon occupied Virgon as Nester dressed to join the logging party. Inspection of the wardrobe placed in his cabin revealed that at some point during the day before additional clothing had been brought for him obviously with the intention of keeping him warm. They included a pair of thick thermal gloves and headwear. While he was unsettled by the idea of people or indeed Cylons coming into what was supposed to be _his_ cabin while he was away he was nevertheless grateful for the clothes.

After a light breakfast he began to make his way to the mustering point where the others were waiting. As he stepped outside into the brisk morning air his breath became visible as he exhaled through his mouth. With his hands in the pockets of the thick jacket he walked to join the logging group assembled near the north entrance to the camp.

When he arrived he found himself amongst a group of twelve men all of whom stood around talking and laughing amongst one another, their tools and supplies spread out on the ground in front of them. Standing a few feet away to the right of the group were two of the Leoben Cylons muttering amongst themselves. This was a point he made a mental note of. He had observed that interaction between the humans and the Cylons appeared limited to purely religious or practical matters with the odd exceptions the main one being Adrian and Megan. Perhaps that was something he could play on later when the time was right?

As he approached the group the men eyed him with suspicion. Their conversation trickled away as he came into earshot and Nester felt distinctly unwelcome.

"Gentlemen," said Nester in greeting which got only polite nods from the group. Sensing their mistrust towards him he decided to keep his distance and observe. If anything this was an opportunity to view the interaction between the people in the camp to help him sum up what he was up against. Could he gain more support from them or where they his enemy as well?

"Uh, excuse me," mumbled a voice from behind him. Nester looked over his shoulder to find a rather nervous looking young man standing behind him looking just as out of place as the Marine Lieutenant.

"Yes?" asked Nester wondering why this person had tried to get his attention.

"Uh…uh," the young man looked around to make sure no one was immediately around them before he whispered, "Rock!"

Caught off guard, it took Nester a few seconds to realize that this was one of the PoWs being kept at the camp along with him. 'Rock' was the codeword he had chosen for them to introduce themselves to him.

"Nester Adrastos," he said holding his hand out.

The nervous looking young man sighed in relief before accepting the hand stretched out before him. "Private-" Nester held up his hand to stop the young man from referring to himself by rank. "Tom, my name is Tom Collifield."

"Pleased to meet you Tom. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes si…Uh, yes I am," replied Tom.

"Excellent," said Nester as he watched two familiar figures walking towards them. He knew that Adrian was coming with them but was Megan?

"Good morning," said Adrian to Nester as he and Megan stopped. Nester and Tom watched as they embraced and kissed before saying good bye. Megan added a pleasant good bye to Nester before she turned and began to walk away back to their cabin. "Sleep well?"

"Not bad thank you," replied Nester.

"Good, good and who is this?" asked Adrian referring to Tom.

"This is Tom Collifield, we seem to be the source of some mistrust amongst the others."

"Well I'm sure over time they will grow to trust you as you will with them," said Adrian optimistically.

"No doubt," uttered Nester as he heard an all too familiar sound approaching them. It was the sound of mechanical body parts moving in unison and it was heading towards them. Nester looked around to the right and saw the twelve Centurions formed into two rows of six marching towards them.

"Don't worry about them," said Adrian. "They're here for our protection."

The Centurions formed up around the assembled group making Collifield feel very uncomfortable indeed. The other humans didn't seem at all bothered by the presence of the mechanical warriors. In fact they were almost totally indifferent to their presence.

"Everybody ready?" called out one of the Leobens. There were a few acknowledgments from the assembled group as they each picked up tools and supplies before the Leoben signaled to two Centurions manning the main gate to open it up for them. The immense steel gate began to slide to the right. Like the entire length of the boundary to the compound the gate was fifteen feet high with barbed wire wrapped over the top. Centurions manned high guard towers positioned approximately two hundred feet apart from one another. It looked like a prisoner of war camp and it certainly felt like one for Nester Adrastos and Tom Collifield. "Alright, let's go!"

Surrounded by Centurions the logging detail began to walk out of the compound. The humans were arranged in no particular order. They seemed to group together with friends and laughed and talked as if they were just going to work on any given day. The two Leobens remained separated from the rest of the group although Nester noted that they seemed to have a lot to talk about. Although he later assumed he imagined it he could have sworn he heard one of them mutter the word, "Galactica," but he couldn't be sure.

The trees they were specifically interested in for building their cabins and furniture were approximately eight kilometers away. Adrian explained to Nester as they walked that they were looking for a specific type of oak that was particularly resilient to the harsh weather conditions.

As they started to walk through thick forests, the kind Nester had grown up around being a native of Virgon, he began to contemplate the possibility of escape if only as a mental exercise. Since they were traveling in a tightly packed group with Centurions nearby now probably wasn't the best time to make a move. A surge of guilt ran over him. He remembered that there were others in the camp who were Prisoners of War like himself. He also remembered the Military Code of Conduct which demanded that as the only officer it was his responsibility to take command of them and lead them through their captivity. With that in mind he decided now was not the time to make any move.

After twenty or so minutes of walking Adrian left Nester and Collifield to talk to the Leobens. This gave Nester a chance to speak to his fellow PoW.

"So how were you captured?" he asked.

"I had just completed basic training and I was going home to Aerilon on leave before I got posted. I was on a transport ship when the Cylons attacked. Our engines were hit and the pilot was forced to make an emergency landing on Tauron. The toasters were waiting for us at the landing site. They rounded up all the passengers and just started executing them. I thought I'd be next when suddenly I lost consciousness, I don't know why. I think one of the frakking skinjobs must have dosed me with something because the next thing I knew I was here on Virgon."

"How long have you been here?"

"About six or seven days," said Collifield. "I'm not really sure. I guess they kept me unconscious for the time in between. I don't want to think about what they might have been doing to me during that time."

Nester noted that Collifield's story was very similar to the one he had been told by the other PoWs who had approached him so far. They were all captured at around the time the Cylons attacked and all were kept unconscious until approximately a week ago. He was the only exception.

As he noted the passage of time he remembered the mission to retrieve supplies from Scorpia, the same mission during which he was captured. He began to wonder if there was a reason the Cylons chose now to reawaken the other prisoners and if his capture merely coincided with that time. Perhaps they just decided to include him in whatever their plan was for them here due to the timing? It certainly explained why he was the only officer. Maybe they didn't want a leader in their initial plan and then altered it to accommodate the Lieutenant from the Battlestar Hermes? If that was true then Nester knew he was on borrowed time and would have to tread carefully from now on.

The walk to where these specific types of trees grew lasted almost two and a half. The cold and damp air made the journey feel quite arduous from the start, it being made worse by the damp and uneven ground. Nester was a physically fit person but even he found it tiring. Talking amongst the group had quickly died out as they concentrated on their breathing, talking would only make them short of breath. Finally they arrived at a steep hillside upon which the tall tress had grown for over a century. They were thick trees with some measuring upto a meter in diameter at the base. The roots were gnarled and intertwined with one another forming into one immense knot across the forest floor.

One of the Leobens stopped by the base of one of these immense trees and began to examine it with his compatriot while the humans amongst the group stopped to take a drink and catch their breath. The Centurions began to spread out as they assumed a defensive posture around them.

Collifield leaned against a tree further down the hillside from the one that had taken the Leobens' interest as he took a drink from his canteen before splashing some on his face in an effort to clean the dirty sweat from his skin. Nester stood beside him and did the same although he was a little more conservative with the amount he used. He was about to speak to Collifield when he saw Adrian Doral approaching them.

"Everything ok?" asked Adrian looking at the already exhausted face on Collifield.

"Yes thank you," replied Nester as politely but firmly as he could feeling the leader inside him taking over. "Let me ask you something; why come all this way for trees to use as building materials? Why not just send the Centurions out to get them?"

"A little work is good for the soul," answered Adrian as if he were somehow enjoying the whole experience. "It keeps the mind active and reminds the body what it's used for. Don't worry, the Centurions will be helping move the tree back once we've cut it down and stripped it of its branches."

"That's ok then," huffed Collifield catching his breath from the thick and moist air.

One of the Leobens turned back to the group after finishing his inspection of the tree that had taken their fancy. The Leoben stepped down towards the group.

"This is the one," he said to them pointing to the tree immediately behind him perched on the side of the steep hill. "We'll take a few minutes before we get started."

Sensing that he was going to need to keep hydrated for a while Nester decided to take another drink from his canteen. As he lifted up the plastic container it slipped from his hand, its surface being damp from the moist filled air, and landed on the opposite side of the deep root that held up the tree upon which Collifield was still leaning against.

He knelt down and reached over for it. His arm didn't quite have the length and so he held onto the root with his right hand while he leaned further forward. His fingertips were just beginning to touch the plastic when the air suddenly exploded with a series of loud whistles and pops.

Nester's head spun around to the left just in time to watch one of the Leobens fall to the floor, his chest riddled with holes and seeping blood from the wounds. Nester instinctively dived forwards in an effort to find cover behind the deep roots while the bullets flew and whizzed overhead from concealed positions further up the hill. Nester's ears immediately identified the sound of the guns as belonging to standard military rifles. It was quite possible that they were under attack by Colonial forces.

Keeping low he tilted his head upwards to see what was going on around him. As he watched the scene unfold before him everything seemed to slow down as though he were watching a movie on the wrong playback speed.

The group were quickly trying to disperse as the bullets rained down upon them. Three of them had been hit and were now slumped on the ground along with the Leoben who was the first hit. Suddenly the Centurions leapt into action. Half of them charged up the hill from where the gunfire was coming from while the other half took flanking positions on either side of the group to cover their attempt to escape. As the Centurions began to return fire the sound of their own guns drowned out the sound of the attacking rifles.

Nester looked for Collifiled who only a few seconds earlier was standing beside him. He was now gone and from Nester's position was nowhere to be seen. Nester tilted his head from right to left sensing that it was now safer to move given that the Centurions were now drawing the bulk of the hostile fire.

As he peeked up over the deep root protruding from the base of the tree he saw Adrian Doral lying on his back. He had taken three rounds in the chest and was coughing blood. Nester looked around quickly checking that there was no one immediately around him before, in one quick move, he bolted upwards and took hold of Adrian before quickly dragging him down behind the tree for cover. The fact that this 'man' was a Cylon was lost on Nester who saw a wounded friend and had to act. It was only as Nester looked down at him once they were behind cover that he had realized that he had risked his life to pull a Cylon to safety.

It was all in vain however.

Nester looked down and took Adrian's hand as he watched the life draining from the wounded Cylon. Nester had been there at the end of other people's lives and this seemed no different. Nester didn't know if that fact humbled him or angered him even further but he felt compelled to stay there with Adrian until the end came.

Adrian Doral coughed and spluttered blood from his mouth as Nester heard him mumble his last word, "M-Megan!"

The Cylon's hand went limp and Nester knew he was gone. Nester was a mix of emotion and confusion. He didn't know if he should be trying to make contact with whoever was attacking his captors or whether he should go and help the other humans?

The air around him suddenly boomed with loud thudding sounds as a series of mortars landed further up the hill. Sensing that the mortars were landing further and further down the hillside Nester acknowledged one of his most basic instincts and rose to his feet before starting to race back down the hill. Soon gravity took over and he felt he was in a controlled fall as his legs struggled to keep him upright. At some point he saw the ground come rushing up to his face as he tripped and fell, rolling for several seconds before landing face first into a mud filled ditch.

He quickly turned over onto his back and realizing he had good cover from the battle that was still taking place further up the hill he decided to stay where he was. As his eyes came around he jumped in surprise. A woman was standing in front of him with long black hair and wearing a long blue sleeveless dress cut just above the knees despite the cold. His first thought was that she was mature woman given her attire but as he examined her more closely he noticed the youthful complexion on her face and determined that she was around sixteen to eighteen years old.

She stepped forwards towards him seemingly oblivious to the danger that existed just yards away. Nester looked up watching her in awe as two Cylon Raiders appeared in the sky behind her. They whirred loudly overhead before the valley erupted with the sound of heavy caliber weapons fire as they began strafing the hillside.

As she stood in front of him Nester realized he had seen her before. She had been sitting on the step outside William's cabin when he and Megan were listening to the old man sing. He had never seen her before that point but somehow he felt like he knew her. She knelt down in front of him and he became lost in her emerald green eyes as she placed her hands on either side of his face, her touch feeling warm and comforting. He tried to speak but as the words began to form she suddenly yanked his head violently to the right. She held it there as she forced him to look across at the nearby treeline. Three hooded figures armed with rifles were quickly running down the hillside in between the trees as they made their escape.

After a few moments the figures disappeared out of sight. With her hands still on his face she guided his head back to the front and the two of them stared into one another's eyes once more. Nester felt himself willingly giving in to her. Her mere presence demanded his absolute attention.

"Who-Who are you?" he asked almost in a whisper.

She leaned forward and gently placed her lips on his. Her touch was warm and comforting and as they kissed tenderly he experienced a sensation similar to falling backwards. His vision began to blur and soon the falling sensation was replaced by a feeling that he was tumbling through the air.

The sensation was quickly subsiding. So too was any feeling whatsoever. He was loosing consciousness and was totally powerless to fight it. He began to wonder if he was simply falling asleep or whether he had been hit during the pitched battle and was in fact dying? Or maybe he didn't trip but was shot by the three hooded figures?

His last conscious thought told him that he would only know which it was if he ever woke up again.

* * *

The three hooded figures, two male and one female, continued to make their escape from the battle they had started. Clutching their rifles they ran in between the trees trying to get as much distance from the Cylon forces as their legs could get them. The last one of the three, the woman, kept turning around every few dozen meters to search for pursuit but each time failed to find anything. The two Cylon Raiders continued to orbit the hillside that was now in the distance waiting for the call to provide additional air support should they be needed.

The woman suddenly stopped as a man came into view of her peripheral vision in between the trees. She drew her rifle and held it in his direction as she studied him all the while her compatriots got further and further away.

The man wore a long green trenchcoat with a peaked hat and was looking downwards at the ground. As he sensed her presence he raised his head and looked at the hooded woman who was approaching him with a rifle pointed at him.

"Well?" croaked the One.

The woman slung the rifle back over her shoulder before reaching up to remove the hood from her head that covered the features of her face. As it fell down onto her shoulders it revealed an attractive young woman with long jet black hair. She was an Eight generically known as Sharon.

"Our mission was a success," she reported to him.

"Lieutenant Adrastos is alive?"

"Our spotters saw him retreating back down the hillside when the fighting began. As far as he is concerned the resistance is very much alive on Virgon."

"Excellent," croaked the One. "Now the only question is whether or not he will return to that petting zoo the Sixes are running or will he try to find the real resistance. We're prepared for either eventuality. Good work, Eight. I think it would be best if you and your team keep this operation to yourselves. Natalie…I mean the Six, needs to know that while we are indulging her in her efforts to convert the Lieutenant he is still part of our overall plan."

"I understand," said the Eight.


	13. Chapter 13

**Battlestar Valkyrie  
Starboard Hangar Deck  
Six years before 'The Fall'  
Mission to rescue President Adar's sister and niece**

"I'm just here for the ride."

"Somehow I doubt that," Major Bowman uttered almost accidentally to Lieutenant Galit Malka of the Ministry of Intelligence.

"What does that mean?" she asked stopping in the middle of the Hangar Deck almost oblivious to the Viper being towed several yards behind them. Bowman pulled her aside and stood her next to another Viper stored on the port side of the deck.

"I always get the feeling that you know more than you're letting on," explained Bowman.

Malka's eyes looked down momentarily as her trademark cheeky smile curled the ends of her lips before she looked back up at him and said, "If I didn't then I wouldn't be much of an intelligence officer would I?"

Bowman almost didn't want the answer. A part of him wished she had lied because her answer implied that there was more going on than he had first thought. "I despise secrets!"

"I've noticed," she said. "Now I wonder why?"

"Don't 'Psych'!" he warned her. "Not today."

"Well, we will have plenty of time to talk about it on the flight," she said firmly and with that she began to walk towards their designated Raptor.

"Where are you going?" yelled out Bowman. Galit turned and saw him still standing next to the Viper.

"Our Raptor is this way isn't it?" she asked. "Raptor Seven-Seven?"

"Yes; but we are taking Six-Three-One," said Bowman who was now grinning at the fact that he knew something she didn't. "Do you think after what happened with Tolan the last time I'm really going to take out the designated Raptor again?"

Galit gave an acknowledging nod implying she was impressed with his cunning. Bowman started to walk over to their actual Raptor and she followed close behind him. As he opened the hatch to allow her entry he uttered, "Don't you just hate being out of the loop?"

She stopped in the entrance to the Raptor and the two of them glared at one another, both daring the other to make a move. They had attracted some attention from several deckhands who were carefully watching them through the corners of their eyes. Galit had picked up on this.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "You really hate surprises don't you?" Bowman didn't answer. He didn't have time. She put her hand on his face and quickly kissed him on the lips before retreating inside the main cabin…

* * *

**Battlestar Hermes  
Bowman's Quarters  
41 Days since 'The Fall' (Present Day)**

Artimus Bowman knew what had triggered that particular old memory as he packed a bag ready to leave Hermes aboard the Faststar Eurylade. Just under an hour ago he had spoken to Galit as work to fit the Aleixs' FTL to the Faststar was being completed. They had been ironing out some of the finer points of their arrangement namely how many of his own people Bowman could take with him. They had settled on three but Galit had absolutely insisted on one thing; no Marines.

Bowman had reluctantly agreed. He knew from the look she had given him that this was a demand she would not step down from. She assured his safety and her cooperation in getting the weapons and supplies for Hermes from the station but on the condition that she be allowed to continue her own mission despite still remaining vague on what that might be. Although it went against his better judgement he determined that she posed no direct threat to him or his team but as he concealed the sidearm inside his bag he knew that it was a prudent precaution to take.

Placed beside the bag was an envelope that had numerous names scribbled out on it after having been passed back and fore between departments and personnel carrying whatever messages were inside. The only name that wasn't scribbled out was Colonel Caleb Dytto's which had just been written by Bowman. Inside contained a written copy of the orders he had relayed to his XO during the past few hours as they both prepared for Bowman's departure. The orders outlined Bowman's plan to convert the Starboard Hangar Deck into living spaces for around half of the civilian population living in 'The Slum'. The orders also included instructions that the Colonel was to follow to the letter should anything unfortunate happen to the Commander while he was away.

A series of escape coordinates had been plotted for the Hermes should the Cylons show up and a copy of these had been sent to the Eurylade so that they could follow the Battlestar if that happened. The orders for Dytto included instructions for the Colonel to take Hermes and jump away to an alternate set of coordinates the Commander had secretly ordered Captain Chloe Burmeister to calculate should the Eurylade not return within forty-eight hours or the Eurylade, for whatever reason, became a threat to the Battlestar. This was Bowman's way of making sure that Hermes was safe. He was willing to gamble his own life but he wasn't willing to risk the three thousand people in his charge.

Having finished packing a few items of clothing into the bag as well as the gun he walked into the adjacent bathroom and took a moment to look into the mirror. His duty uniform was getting more baggy around the waist having lost quite a bit of weight over the last month and a half.

"Brooke would have been impressed," he mumbled to himself in a not-so-funny way as he recalled his wife's own efforts to lose weight the year before despite his reassurance that he considered her perfect in every way. As he pinched the loose jacket he decided to abandon the poorly fitting uniform and so he unbuttoned the top half at the front and threw it on the basin before proceeding to do the same with his trousers. He then walked back into the main room of his quarters and reached into his wardrobe to produce a set of black combat fatigues. It had been a long time since he had worn anything like these but it felt quietly refreshing to be wearing something different.

Having finished getting changed he looked in the mirror once more. He felt different somehow as he looked at himself in the black fatigues that routinely adorned the detachment of Marines aboard the Hermes. It took a few moments for him to realize why. It was not that he looked any younger; on the contrary the image he saw before him compared to the last time he wore fatigues was much older and tired looking. It was as he lifted his chin and looked at his neck that it dawned on him why he felt different. His black fatigues lacked any rank insignia, in his case a pair of Commander's pips, and it felt as if he were being released somehow. It was as if his duties as Commander were like chains around his neck and now that the uniform was off so too were these chains. It left him feeling a mix of both relief and guilt. Why should he be spared the burden of command? It was something he had accepted since the day he received those pips.

A heavy knocking on his hatch in the adjacent main room broke his gaze at the reflection staring back at him.

"Enter!" he called out loud enough for the visitor to hear. The handle spun through its rotation before a loud clunking sound signalled that the hatch was open. Its hinges squeaked loudly as it swung inwards to reveal Colonel Caleb Dytto who seemed to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Bowman emerging from the bathroom. "What?" asked Bowman feeling like he was on display at a museum.

"Nothing!" declared Dytto resolutely before confessing, "It's just I've never seen you in fatigues before." Dytto closed the hatch behind him to give the two of them some privacy. "I thought I'd come down here and fill you in on the status of the repairs thus far before you left."

"I appreciate that," said Bowman tossing off the guilty feeling that had come over him earlier.

"Engineering is ready to take the FTL offline to begin their repairs. They say theiy're going to have to strip the whole thing down and rebuild it from the ground up. They estimate it will take up to eighteen hours for each spool providing they don't run into anything unexpected."

"That's a long time to be sitting with your ass stuck in the mud," said Bowman metaphorically.

"Well we can still do an emergency jump with one spool but it will only be a short distance and it will be a bumpy ride," added Dytto.

"All the same it might be prudent to launch a full CAP with Raptors and have them sit with their engines running idle alongside us to conserve fuel. Rotate them with replacement teams every six hours to avoid overtiring them."

"Agreed," muttered Dytto who then fell silent.

"Anything else?" asked Bowman noting that his XO seemed reluctant to continue.

Dytto cleared his throat as he folded his arms and asked, "Permission to speak freely?"

"When do you not?" chuckled Bowman as he lifted up his bag and threw the strap over his shoulder.

"There has been some…muttering amongst the crew. It's regarding this mission you've volunteered yourself for."

"Oh? Go on!"

"Well, the truth is this; you're the Commander. For the past month and a half you've been the one to lead them through this…this living hell. Now I don't know if it was down to skill or good judgement or just dumb luck on your part but as much as I hate to admit it they see you as the reason why they're still alive and kicking. Now if you go gallivanting off with Malka then I think morale, whatever is left of it anyway, is going to take a serious frakking hit."

"Are you saying I'm the ship's good luck charm, is that it Caleb?" joked Bowman half heartedly.

"I'm being serious here a minute," protested the Gemonese Colonel.

"I know," said Bowman. "Well that's something you're going to have to address while I'm gone. You're an excellent Executive Officer Caleb, that's why I put up with your crap over the past year, but now you're operating without me as your net to catch you. You're going to have to find out what kind of CO you are that works for you but more importantly what works for them. Being the Commander isn't just about giving orders and making tough decisions. It's about putting the lives of everyone under your command first. That's something you need to learn because like it or not, until I get back anyway, you are the Commander of Hermes."

Caleb thought for a moment as the reality of what was happening dawned on him.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words spoken to me," said Dytto dryly. "And now that I've heard them…Fii atent ce doriti pentru." Bowman looked at Dytto with confusion until the Colonel explained, "It's old Gemonese. It means you should be careful what you wish for because you might just get it."

"You're going to do fine Caleb," said Bowman walking towards his XO indicating he intended to leave now. "I have to be the one to go on this one. The truth is I know Malka. I know the type of person she is and what she is capable of. If I send anyone else she will have them jumping through hoops and looking the other way when they need to be focused on her. Something about this whole thing, something that I can't quite put my finger on, is bothering me. She has her reasons for keeping information from us. I intend to find out what that reason is so I can assess if she is as much a threat to Hermes as the Cylons are. That's what a good Commander would do; put the well being of his people above his own."

"I understand," said Dytto. "You know once in your office, when I was being particularly stubborn, you punched me in the side of the head to knock some sense into me."

"You looking at returning the favor?"

"Perhaps one day," said Dytto with a satisfied smile. "But not today." The Colonel stood to attention and saluted his Commander. "Good hunting, sir!"

"The ship is yours, Colonel," said Bowman returning the gesture.

**

* * *

**

Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge

The bridge of the Eurylade was a rather small compartment compared to the CIC aboard a Battlestar being only eight meters by nine meters. At the front and to the left was the helm and navigational station currently being manned by Keene Barron. On the immediate right as Bowman walked in was an extensive communication station. Boxed in just behind the helm was the engineering station which monitored the ship's systems while immediately adjacent to it was the weapons station. Perched in the middle of the comparatively cramped control room was the Captain's chair.

"Permission to come aboard?" asked Bowman as he stepped onto the bridge.

Galit Malka was huddled around the Engineer's station on the comparitively cramped bridge of the Eurylade along with Chief Imlay and the Eurylade's engineering officer whom Bowman was yet to be introduced to. Seeing the Commander announce himself so formally, she stepped out from behind the console and stood firmly in front of him in an almost mocking fashion.

"Permission granted of course, Commander," she said. "We're just about ready to get underway. The FTL is installed and your team is aboard so unless you have any objections?"

"No, you can proceed whenever you're ready," he replied.

"Excellent," she said before turning to Lieutenant Chad Teuton manning the Communication console. "Mr Teuton; please contact Hermes CIC and request clearance to depart. Mr Mantell; please seal the dorsal air lock and retract umbilical. Once we have clearance from Hermes to depart you may disengage the locking clamps."

"Yes ma'am," answered the engineering officer next to whom Imlay was standing over.

"Hermes CIC have cleared us," reported Teuton a few seconds later.

"Locking clamps disengaged," Mantell soon added. "We're free."

"Acknowledged," said Malka as she took her seat in the centre of the bridge. "Helm; take us down eighty clicks along the Y-axis then hold her steady."

"Yes ma'am," responded Keene Barron manning the helm.

* * *

The dorsal thrusters of the Faststar Eurylade fired in one quick burst causing the ship to pull away from the Hermes. It slowly descended from its hiding space between the valley formed by the two Hangar Pods of the Battlestar until it was clear of the larger vessel. As it passed eighty kilometers the ventral thrusters fired and the Faststar came to a sudden halt before its main sublight engines glowed brightly as they sparked into life and began to move the ship forward finally leaving behind the Hermes and the protection the Battlestar offered.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge**

"We're clear of Hermes," reported Keene. "I'm inputting the coordinates to the station into the FTL computer. Coordinates uploaded."

"Begin spooling the FTL," ordered Malka.

Watched by Imlay, Mantell began input the command for the ship's FTL to begin spooling up ready to make the faster than light jump across 'Big Red'.

" FTL is spooling normally," reported the engineer. "Power output is within normal parameters. We can proceed with the jump."

"Excellent," said Malka who turned to look at Bowman standing in the corner of the bridge looking somewhat out of place amongst the Ministry of Intelligence crew. "Perhaps you would like to give the order?"

"This is your ship," replied Bowman firmly.

Malka smiled and nodded before turning forwards once again. "Jump!"

**

* * *

**

The FTL drive that had been salvaged from the Alexis and rigged to fit the Eurylade spooled up drawing an immense amount of energy through its coils before channeling that energy around the ships hull. Space and time began to distort until suddenly the ship was engulfed in a brilliant white light that ran the length of its hull and it disappeared leaving behind the Battlestar Hermes and her crew to heal their wounds and repair their damage.

* * *

**Eight Light Years Away**

_Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping..._

The low frequincy DRADIS scans emanated out into red and black sky searching for a contact that would reflect the signal back to its source. In this case it was an old Viper Mark III that sat hugging the the roof of an immense void inside 'Big Red' where the Ministry of Intelligence space station Two-One-Seven was hidden. The old Viper was one of half a dozen that hid inside the clutter of the outer layer of the red dust that gives this area of space its name. It was close enough to be difficult to detect by all but the most sophisticated DRADIS dishes but not too close for the thick dust to clog their engines and thrusters.

The Viper Mark III was a development of the earlier Mark II, itself derived from the original Viper Mark I. The overall layout was almost the same however unlike all other Viper variants before and after it this one featured forward sweeping wings arranged in the usual tri-wing layout. The weapons system was an improvement over the older Mark II but was essentially the same proven system. It had three engines that were mounted in enlarged nacelles when compared to the Mark II that gave it better climbing performance when flying inside an atmosphere but the downside was that it burned up its fuel a lot quicker than the older Vipers.

_Ping...Ping...Ping...Ping...Contact!_

The DRADIS had detected something. After years of receiving the same signals over and over again there could be no doubt that something had changed on the DRADIS imnage each Viper was being fed. The Vipers systems powered up and its sublight engines sparked into life. One by one the little ships bolted out of the cover offered by the dust cloud and formed up into three groups of two; one leader and one wingman providing cover. They quickly swooped in on their quarry and in the reddish glow they saw the outline of a Tiger-class Faststar.

**

* * *

**

Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge

"DRADIS contacts!" called out the MoI Lieutenant manning the tactical station, a woman in her mid twenties with chestnut brown hair. "We've got six inbound."

"I'm receiving a signal," added Teuton who listened in to the transmission that was coming through his earpiece. "They're Vipers on CAP from the station. They're ordering us to transmit our transponder codes or they will fire upon us."

"Then let's not keep them waiting," said Malka. "Send the following sequence - one, niner, eight, four, constellation."

"Roger, sending it now," reported Teuton.

Bowman slowly stepped across the bridge towards Malka who remained in her seat. Leaning down he quietly whispered, "I thought the station was abandoned?"

"It is!"

"Well then who is flying those Vipers?"

She looked back at him and smiled vaguely as she replied, "All in good time, 'Ace'."

Bowman straightened his back while keeping his eyes on her. Expecting her to hold her gaze he was surprised to find her tearing her eyes away from him like a small child who was guilty of disobeying a parent and trying to hide it. This did not sit well with Bowman. Nothing about this mission did. He simply had no choice but to stand back and let Malka and her team do their work until he knew more.

"They've confirmed our code is authentic," said Teuton.

"The Vipers have formed up on us," added the young woman at the tactical station. "We are cleared to proceed."

"Time to the station?" asked Malka.

"Fifteen minutes," replied Keene.

**

* * *

**

With its Viper escorts now swarmed around it the Faststar Eurylade advanced forwards toward the station that had sat quietly in the red and black sky for over thirty years waiting to be awoken. From outside the Faststar the station appeared as only a small dot silhouetted against the red dust clouds that encompassed this area of space. The dot was growing in size as the Faststar continued its advance forwards with the Viper Mark IIIs in close formation providing escort.

Gradually the dot began to grow and take shape as the Faststar edged its way forwards. It was no longer a dot but was now beginning to resemble a corkscrew with a large rounded compartment at the top and a long spine protruding from behind it. The spine itself had four coffin-like pods attached to it that ran around its circumference.

The closer the Faststar got to the station the more detail could be seen should any of its crew decide to look out of one of the few windows of the ship. The rounded compartment at the top of the spine was hexagonal in shape and was an immense structure. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch of the imagination to compare it to two dinner plates that have been placed together to form a chasm in the middle. There was a gap between the two sides that formed a canyon that ran along the entire length of the rounded structure. Sitting idle inside the canyon silently watching the Faststar approach were various gun and missile batteries.

Only now as the distance between the Faststar and the station closed to within a few kilometers could the size of the facility truly be appreciated. The entire structure was five times the size of the Battlestar Hermes and bristled with defenses. The Faststar and its escorts passed silently over the upper hexagonal shaped structure and turned in towards the spine that protruded outwards with four coffin-like compartments along the side. There were several rows of Viper launch tubes that ran along the length of the spine giving the impression that there were lines drawn across the hull.

The Viper MkIII escorts soon broke formation with the Faststar and turned away to return to their hiding places and continue their silent guard duties. The Faststar Eurylade was left to approach the immense docking hatch that was now beginning to open near the base of the spine. Beacon lights flashed inwards as a visual aid to the Eurylade's crew should they require it. The outer hatch slid fully open and under the control of Keene Barron the Eurylade turned to port, spinning on its centre before coming to a halt as Keene lined the vessel up with the hatch. Once he was sure that the vessel was lined up correctly he used the maneuvering thrusters to push the vessel inside.

Like a giant whale swallowing up a fish the Eurylade was consumed by the space station before the twelve foot wide outer hatch closed behind it sealing the vessel and its crew inside. Still floating inside the dock, mechanical arms reached out from the walls and were fixed onto the hull of the Eurylade to stabilize and hold the vessel in place. The mechanical arms positioned the Eurylade in the centre of the dock before an umbilical tube lowered itself down onto the top of the hull sealing itself over the upper air lock. A small elevator was installed inside the umbilical to ease the access from the Faststar upto the space station. Once the seal was completed the umbilical filled with breathable atmosphere.

Docking was completed.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge**

The instrumentation on the bridge screens all showed the engines and navigation systems of the Eurylade powering down there no longer being any need for them to be online. Keene leaned back in his chair positioned at the helm station and folded his arms as he looked downward and uttered, "We're here."

Bowman looked around at the MoI crew now that they had finally arrived at the station, the destination they had been laboring so hard to reach for the past month. He expected more of a positive reaction but instead found all of them looking quite subdued. None of them seemed ready to proceed. It was almost as if some of them wished they had never got here. The station was like a plague ship with everyone on the Eurylade terrified to step foot upon it.

Even Galit Malka seemed apprehensive.

"So what happens now?" asked Bowman. "Are you ready to tell us just what is here exactly?"

Galit was about to speak when Keene interrupted.

"Our revenge," he uttered staring blankly forward.

"And just what does that mean?" asked Bowman looking at him for an answer but when one failed to materialize he turned back to Malka. It was a few moments before she finally spoke to him. Chief Imlay stood at the engineering station along with Mantell barely able to breathe as he waited for her to speak. On the surface Bowman remained calm and composed but even he was nervous.

"This station doesn't have a name," she began. "It only has a designation; SS-217. Hardly catchy is it? It was the base of operations for the MoI's Division 731 before the project was disbanded."

"What project was that exactly?" asked Imlay almost having to dare himself to speak.

Galit lifted her head up to face Bowman. She then stood up and walked up close to him, so close that he was sure that if he listened carefully enough he could hear her heart beating.

"'Ace'. Everything I've told you already is the truth. That base in the Erebus Belt the Sagittaron Liberation Army used six years ago to hold Adar's sister and niece hostage wasn't built by them. They took it over after it had been abandoned by us. It was built for Division 731 so they could conduct their work in secret and relative safety given that Cylon forces were crawling all over the twelve worlds. The secrecy was not just important for their safety. It had to be kept from the public at all costs."

"Why?" asked Bowman sensing that there was more to keeping the public unaware of the existence of the base than simply Colonial Security.

"Because…," Malka faded off before taking a deep breath to allow her to continue. She was bracing herself for how he would react. "I told you earlier that captured Cylon Centurions were experimented on at that base. Well that was only half of the truth. The other half is that Division 731 also experimented on other prisoners._ Human _prisoners."

"What the frak does that mean?" uttered Bowman not sure he had heard her correctly. "What type of prisoners?"

"Convicts mostly," she explained. "Murderers, traitors, political activists, the list goes on."

"Gods!" gasped Imlay. "What kinds of experiments?"

"Division 731s purpose was to find a way to end the war with the Cylons as quickly as possible regardless of how that goal was achieved." Malka's voice was cool and unflinching as she spoke directly to Bowman ignoring the Chief.

"Why would they need human guinea pigs for that?" he asked. "Genetic manipulation? Were they trying to build supermen?"

"At first," she replied. "Those experiments came to very little."

"Then what?"

"I think it's best you see for yourself," she replied. "Just you and me. No one else."

"Alright," said Bowman. "Agreed."

**

* * *

**

Ten Minutes Later

Artimus Bowman and Galit Malka stood silently in the elevator as it rose up the umbilical from the Eurylade and into the space station itself. The silence was only broken by the sound of Malka opening up a small diagram that she had retrieved from her quarters before they departed the Eurylade. As he watched her twisting and turning the diagram trying to get her bearings with it he gave out a small chuckle.

"What?" she asked as the elevator came to a stop.

"You look like a tourist," he explained causing her to smirk momentarily.

"Well to be fair I only found out about this place after the colonies were bombed. I've never been here before either."

"So we're both stepping into the dark on this one?"

"I guess so," she replied.

"The difference is you've got a candle to guide you," he added as they stepped out of the elevator.

She followed him, quickly stepping in front of the Commander of Hermes grinning in surprise. "'Ace', that was quite poetic."

"You seem surprised. When I was in the fifth grade I won a ribbon for my poetry."

She laughed at his wit before her smile quickly faded as the two of them were brought back to reality. They had allowed themselves a few moments to escape and relish the joy that brought but it only served to worsen the uncertain feelings both had about what the next few minutes would bring.

"Y'know," she started. "I wanted to tell you I was alive. A couple of times I sat staring at a phone sometimes for hours on end trying to work up the courage to call you. For what it's worth I really cherished the time we had together. As short as it was."

Bowman didn't know how to respond to her confession. He was a mix of emotion as he tried to settle his old feelings for her and his wife who he was almost certain was now dead. Unable to decide how to respond he pushed the feelings back down and chose to focus on the mission.

"Show me what's here!" he instructed.

Realizing she wasn't going to get anymore from him she lead the way through the darkly lit corridors of the station. The corridors themselves were particularly wide and Bowman figured that they must have been intended to allow vehicles through probably to speed up loading and unloading of docked vessels.

It took another ten minutes to reach where Malka was leading him to. She stopped outside a closed hatch that to Bowman seemed to just appear out of nowhere. The parts of the station he had seen during this short journey were very spartan with little distinguishing detail to give a sense of actually traveling any distance.

"This is it," she said after having apparently checked the diagram three times to confirm it. "Remember, this is a Ministry of Intelligence mission. I want your blessing but this is my call and I am making it."

"I understand," said Bowman feeling as though that whatever was inside was going to finally make the decision for him whether or not Malka was an ally or a threat.

"Once Division 731 gave up on genetic engineering they turned their hand to an older technology to fight our enemy. This is what they came up with."

Galit Malka spun the handle on the hatch through its full rotation before pulling on it. It creaked open to reveal a narrow corridor longer than Bowman could see that ran the entire length of the spine of the station. Lining the entire length of the walls were three shelves on either side. Each shelf had a mechanical body placed on it curled up for ease of storage. Bowman quickly realized that there must have been thousands of them in this one corridor alone.

Although he had never seen this design before he knew what they were. He looked at Malka who was anxious to see how he would respond as he said, "Cylons? They were building new Cylons here?"

"Yes," she replied.

"How many are here?" he asked looking disbelievingly at the length of this one corridor filled with these new Cylons.

"Before Division 731 was disbanded they had built over half a million. Now you know the secret that's held here. The most closely guarded secret in the twelve worlds for the last forty years. Second generation Cylon Centurions."

**

* * *

**

Author's Notes

**1) The opening flashback is a scene I wrote for Wes Imlay's "Ride of the Valkyrie" story.**

**2) The Viper Mark III is based on the design Richard Hatch made for his faux trailer "Battlestar Galactica: The Second Coming". You can view this trailer on You Tube. Alternatively you can see the design on the Galacticafanon article for Viper Mark III. I chose this design to pay homage to the BSG series that never was.**

**3) Division 731 derives its number from Japan's Unit 731 which was responsible for Japan's biological and chemical weapons research. They did some pretty horrific things.**


	14. Chapter 14

**SS-217  
Ministry of Intelligence Space Station **

"You're awfully quiet…_Ace_?"

Artimus Bowman remained silent as he stood in awe of the spectacle before him. Thousands of these second generation Centurions developed by the Ministry of Intelligence's mysterious Division 731 lined the walls around him inside what was probably the biggest storage locker he had ever seen. They all went to a point ahead of him that tricked the human eye into believing it was infinity when in fact it was just under a mile away.

This was one of those moments that truly surprised Galit Malka. She had expected the Commander to start ranting and raving about how immoral and evil such creations were and that they should destroy the station and every last one of them. It seemed that every time she believed she had him figured out he would suddenly surprise her with something unexpected. It was one of the things she truly found interesting about Artimus Xavier Bowman, Commander of the Battlestar Hermes.

Bowman walked up to the nearest one of these 'new' Cylons as it sat crouched on the middle shelf with its head tucked down and between its legs. Head, legs; these were not terms he liked to use when describing a machine but what other terms could he utilize in their description? Whether he liked it or not the Cylons were built as artificial people, slaves whose purpose was to serve mankind so why shouldn't they be modelled after their creators?

"Well?" asked Galit getting impatient with his silence.

Bowman placed his hand on the head of the crouching Cylon as if to touch it was to confirm it was real. Its head was smoother and rounder than the original Centurions but retained the single red visual scanner or 'eye'. In fact the whole body was quite slender and didn't possess the bulky appearance of its predecessors. As his examined the Cylons' posture he couldn't help but liken the machine to that of a frightened child cowering in a corner. As memories of his own childhood came flooding back to him he was sure he had assumed a similar pose in the presence of his abusive father.

Relating to a Cylon – a machine – left a bitter taste with him and he quickly withdrew his hand. He turned back to face Galit who stood near the hatch with her arms folded still waiting for some kind of reply from him.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I guess I just want you to say something like; how disgusted you are at the sight of these things. That they're evil and no good will come of them. I don't know Artimus, just…just say something. Anything!"

Bowman took another look at the rows of Cylons assembled in front of him before turning back to her and declaring, "This is an MoI operation." He then proceeded back out of the hatch leaving her standing dumbfounded and slightly angry.

She quickly stepped out after him and began to pursue him as he made his way through the station back to the Faststar Eurylade.

"What," she cried out to him. "That's it? You've found out what is here and now you're just going to sit by and let me carry on with my mission?"

"That was our agreement wasn't it?" he said continuing to advance back towards the Eurylade.

"Yes, but-"

"Then I am keeping up my end of the deal. I'm going to have my team start sifting through this station looking for whatever Hermes can use and leave you and your people to whatever it is you have in mind."

His progress back to the Eurylade came to a sudden halt as Galit threw herself in front of him holding out her hand and placing it firmly on his chest.

"What's the deal here?" she asked him with a look of utter confusion on her face.

"You really hate it when things aren't going your way, don't you?" he asked before removing her hand from his chest. "I can see it in your eyes right now. Ever since I told you that I was coming with you on this mission you've tried to formulate in your mind all the different ways I might react and prepare your own responses. That way no matter what happens you'll still be on your playing field because you're the one who was prepared but this…well then…now I really do have you stumped and you hate that and I know why. It's because it reminds you that you are human and as such are perfectly fallible like the rest of us."

"So is that why you're behaving like this? It's just to throw me off. Make sure it's you who has one up on me?"

Bowman's tongue quickly glazed his dry lips as he pondered his response to her.

"I'm assuming you want to unleash these things against the Cylons occupying our homeworlds?"

"That was the general idea," she replied.

"What makes you think you can control these ones better than the originals of fifty years ago?"

"It's a little complicated to go into at the moment but these Cylons do have better fail safes than those models. A lot of effort went into making sure history wouldn't repeat itself if these were ever called into use."

"I see," said Bowman. "You know, a month and a half ago I probably would have been disgusted or horrified by what I just saw in there but now, if you want to unleash these things against the occupied colonies and see what happens then go ahead. Maybe they will drive them out or maybe they'll join up with the toasters. I don't know and I don't care because the odds are stacked so frakking high against me and my ship that a few hundred thousand more Cylons fighting for or against me really won't make that much of a difference."

He stepped aside from her and once again started to make his way towards the elevator that led down to the Eurylade.

"I'm actually doing this for you!" she declared to him which caused him to stop for a second time, his head tilting back to the side to listen to what else she had to say. "It's my gift to you."

"A gift?" he repeated as he turned back.

"When this mission began I knew it was a fool's errand. There was no point in completing it after all the government had fallen, our cities were in ruins and our people, those that survived the bombing anyway, were being hunted down and slaughtered. Chances were that there wouldn't have been anyone left by the time we returned. I pressed on with it because I wanted to give my crew something to focus on given all that we had lost. I'm sure you can understand that. And then I found Hermes and of course I found you and I knew then that the Gods had spared me for a reason; to give you this gift."

Bowman was still unsure what she meant and she saw it all over his face. She walked up to him and placed her hands tenderly on his chest, her fingertips retracing that one night they had spent together aboard the transport ship Jabin six years earlier.

"I was born an orphan," she started before looking up at him, his broad shoulders towering over her athletic physique. "I was just left on the steps of the Temple of Artemis in Caprica City. For as long as I can remember I've had to fend for myself because I knew no one else would and one of the lessons I learned, perhaps the most important one, was that no one ever gave you anything for free. There was always a price involved somewhere in the deal even with something like love. Then about six years ago I met a rather angry Major aboard the Battlestar Valkyrie. You were the first person who ever showed me friendship but more importantly respect without wanting anything in return. Now I know that making you think I was dead for the past six years was a lousy way to repay you and for that I am sorry but this is how I am going to make it up to you."

"How exactly?" he uttered before continuing. "There are two hundred and fifty thousand of these second generation Cylons here. The Cylon occupational army numbers in the millions. I don't care how good they are the numbers are firmly stacked against them. They won't drive the enemy off our homeworlds and that's without saying anything about getting them all there in the first place. I doubt Eurylade could take that many in a single run and there is no way in hell I'm letting you use Hermes to transport them."

"Well, as for getting them there that won't be a problem. You see this station isn't a space station in the strictest sense of the term. It's a mobile fortress capable of a single FTL jump from here back to the colonies. The idea was always that if the Cylons ever showed up once more then a ship would come out here and send the station back to fight them off. An entire division complete with its own fortress would be fully combat ready within a day to assist in colonial defense."

"Ok, so what's your plan to rid the colonies of the Cylons?"

"Who said anything about ridding the colonies of the toasters?" she chortled knowing it was an impossibility. She cleared her throat before continuing, "Hermes is being pursued by the Cylons who are getting closer and closer every day. I've seen the damage to your ship, Artimus. I've seen how tired your people are of fighting to live for just one more day knowing that eventually you won't be able to fight any longer. Either the ship or the people on it are going to break under the strain. My plan is to send these second generation Centurions back to the colonies with this station to stir up as much trouble for the mother frakkers as possible. Now ultimately they will all be destroyed, as you pointed out it's a simple question of numbers and they have more, but what if these Centurions cause so much trouble for them that they stop chasing Hermes. If we could force them to pull back their Baseships to the colonies to fight off our Centurions it would give you chance to repair Hermes and get far enough away from the colonies to have a fighting chance of survival. The human race will survive. That's my gift to you."

The two of them shared a moment as they looked into one another's eyes. Both saw a side of the other they were unused to seeing. Galit; the intelligent and logical one was almost desperately pleading with him to agree. Bowman on the other hand, usually the emotional one was rather cold in his expression as if his heart and mind were being replaced by a computer that was weighing up his options until finally he nodded slowly uttering, "Alright, alright let's do it."

Galit was almost trembling with nervousness until she heard him speak and she let out a subdued sigh of relief. She placed her hands back on his chest before running them up higher towards his neck testing to see how he would react. When she found that he wasn't objecting she pressed on further until her arms were now resting on his shoulders as they wrapped around the back of his neck and she leaned her head forwards until his lips met the skin of her forehead.

Having often felt uncomfortable being in such close proximity to a woman other than his wife Artimus Bowman nevertheless felt quite at ease with Galit. He could sense her joy at the fact they were not on opposing sides and he knew it was genuine. There was no pretence in it and the truth was that he himself longed for the warmth of human companionship perhaps now more than ever.

He lifted his own arms up and placed them around her waist causing her to shudder with joy at his accepting touch. Although they were standing in a wide and poorly lit utility corridor on a space station over seventeen jumps from the colonies the two of them began to move with each other as though a slow song was being played that only they could hear.

Galit lowered her hands back down his chest before resting her head on his right shoulder, the two of them continuing to dance to the imaginary song playing in their minds. The two of them were now holding each other tenderly in a fashion they had only done once before. Knowing that under any other circumstances he would be wrought with guilt about being with a woman like this other than Brooke, Bowman decided to close his mind off for the time being and just enjoy this brief moment. It was not that he loved Galit more than his wife but rather it was his own emotional need to be close with someone. Perhaps if he knew for sure she was alive he would feel differently but in his mind he had come to the realization that in all likelihood Brooke Bowman was dead and that Galit was now there for him. We all need someone.

"I used to dream about this," she whispered. "Just a normal life on Caprica. A little house in the suburbs. A dog, maybe even kids. I don't know why I'm telling you this now but it's just…It feels right. It's not enough to simply live. We've got to have something to live for."

"Is that what you're holding on to?" he asked. "The hope of one day having a 'normal' life?"

"Seems pretty far away doesn't it?"

"I guess it's just a matter of perspective. Conventional thinking would agree with you I suppose."

She smiled on his shoulder before asking, "And what about unconventional thinking?"

Their slow silent dance suddenly came to an end. The music was no longer playing in their minds and she lifted her head upwards to face him. It was a few seconds before he answered, "I guess we have to wait and see."

With his words lingering in her mind she slowly reached up and kissed him gently and tenderly on the lips. It was a brief kiss and once it was over she stepped back to see how he would respond. He remained blank and difficult to read.

"Today; we're all that's left," she uttered quietly almost in a whisper. "I wonder what world awaits us tomorrow."

"I don't know," he said softly. "But in the meantime we have work to do."

**

* * *

Cylon Occupied Virgon  
The Monotheist Camp**

Natalie Faust watched as two Raiders emerged from the overhanging arms of the semi-submerged Baseship in the centre of the camp. They dropped downwards before swooping back up into the grey and blue clouds that spread over the camp like a blanket that had been thrown over a bed. These two Raiders were flying off to join the search for Nester Adrastos who had now been missing for almost eight hours despite frantic searches conducted by other Raiders as well as Centurions on the ground. While no sign of the Marine Lieutenant from the Battlestar Hermes was one thing she was equally surprised to find that no trace of the insurgents who had ambushed the logging party had been found thus far either.

With the Raiders now just appearing as two dots in the distance Natalie turned away and began to walk back to her cabin to wait for news. She knew there was nothing more that she could do for the time being and having spent the day coordinating the search effort she felt her time would now be better spent resting her mind. Although her Cylon body could endure far more than its human counterpart the Cylon mind has the same limitations.

She stepped inside her cabin and closed the door behind her before proceeding to remove her long brown trench coat that kept her warm and dry. She hung it up on a handle next to the door but as she did so she heard the faint sound of glass touching glass and flowing liquid. She knew who the intruder in her home was right from that moment.

"How many times have I told you that you cant just barge in here whenever you feel like?" she growled at the Cavil sitting in his usual chair with his back to her.

"Is that anyway to talk to a house guest?" he croaked in response as she watched him pour a second glass of brandy intended for her.

"House guests are invited," she replied walking over to him.

"Sit down!" he instructed to which she initially hesitated before complying. "Drink this!" He held out the glass for her and the dark haired blond Cylon, darker than her model usually had their hair, looked at the drink before taking it off him. She stared at it quizzically as if wondering what was in the small tumbler in her right hand. "I assure you it's not poison." He watched her take a small sip of the drink before uttering, "There my dear, isn't that better. Help loosen you up a bit. You seem a little tense to me so I'm guessing there has been no luck locating Lieutenant Adrastos?"

"You don't seem too worried about it?" she asked in reply. "It was your idea to bring him here as part of your plan for Hermes."

"Uh, uh, uh, it was not my idea to bring him _here_!" he said firmly as he held his glass ready to take another drink once he had finished speaking. "Virgon; yes but not this little…summer camp you've got going on here and if Adrastos has been killed then the fault lies firmly with you and the Twos for recommending bringing him here. You recall that I was against it from the start. I felt it detrimental to our goal but once again I was outvoted and like a good Cylon I followed the will of the majority rule even if I thought it was an error."

"Do you always drink so much?" she asked him noting that whenever this Cavil visited her he almost always had a drink with him.

"I find it eases my suffering if only just a little," he murmured in his croaky voice.

"Your suffering?"

"Yes, be it surrounded by clumsy and incompetent machines who don't know what's best for our race or simply being stuck in this frakking body of skin and bone. It's like a cheap suit you can't take off. You should try having a drink yourself every now and again. It might help you sleep a bit better. You still having the nightmares?"

Natalie ignored the question she knew was meant as an insult.

"You seem unusually relaxed about this whole situation," she said noting his posture as she composed herself.

"Why should I worry about one human?"

"Under normal circumstances you wouldn't," she replied. "However Adrastos isn't just another human to you and to have him outside of our control can only be counterproductive. Unless…"

Cavil glared at her. "Unless what?"

"Unless you had something to do with the attack on our logging party."

"And just what does that mean my dear?" chortled Cavil as he took another drink.

"I mean exactly that. Did you attack our logging party or organize an attack so you could get your hands on Adrastos?"

"What an interesting perspective you have my dear," said Cavil as he held his glass to his eye and stared at her distorted image through the dark brown liquid. "Like beauty it's all in the eye of the beholder I suppose. Tell me; just how did you come to this conclusion?"

"Several things aroused my suspicion. Firstly the fact the attack happened at all. There hasn't been much in the way of insurgent activity in this area for quite some time and we've had no indication of any other human survivors in the hills."

"Then they're obviously very good at hiding themselves," suggested Cavil.

"Possibly but then why is it our forces haven't retrieved any evidence of the insurgents after the attack? It's like they were ghosts."

"We could sit here speculating about this until the sun explodes," he croaked in protest. "If you honestly suspect me of going against the wishes of the majority rule then I recommend you go to the others and have me boxed."

"I might just do that," she said.

"And make yourself look even more foolish than you do already trying to make believers out of these people who by all intents and purposes should have been killed over a month ago along with the rest of their miserable species. No, Six…_Natalie,_ you wont do any such thing because you know it will come back on you. Of all seven models yours is the most diverse, something of your own choosing, and as such yours is the most divided which is something you all must take responsibility for. Even some of your own sisters have their doubts about this little experiment. You force the issue and you could be the one who pays for it!"

"I don't hear you denying anything," she said commenting with a look that showed she wasn't surprised. "You really did it didn't you? You acted without the sanction of the majority rule of your fellow Cylons."

"I did no such thing," he protested. "But yes, I did orchestrate the attack in the spirit of the original plan to which we all agreed upon, yourself included."

"My God!" she gasped at this confession. "What have you done?"

"I've kept us on the path to righteousness."

"What you have done could be interpreted in some circles as treason," she spat, her anger building.

"Treason is a human concept that is alien to a machine!" he growled back as the two of them rose to their feet to confront one another further. "One part of the mechanism might not be working the way it was intended but if its still doing its job then what does it matter? That's the beauty of artificial life. Embrace it, Six. Do not scorn it. I believe in the purity of the Cylon and yes if I had my way I would walk out of this little house with a knife and I would slit the throats of every man, woman and child in this little haven of dirt you have here. I would do it and enjoy myself in the process. My hands would be drenched in blood but I would feel clean and pure knowing that I have made the galaxy that much better. I'd measure its new found quality in litres of blood, _human_ blood, and then the universe would thank me, thank _us,_ for cleansing it and it would embrace the Cylon as the Gods of this new universe. A better universe."

"Get out!" she demanded through gritted teeth. "There is only one God. There always has been and there always will be."

Cavil smirked in amusement at her. "If the only evidence you have to support that is faith then it's more a matter of perspective than anything else and I guess we are then right back to where we started. Go to the others if you wish, I wont deny anything, just be prepared for the consequences if you do. I'll leave the bottle for you tonight to help you sleep. Sweet dreams."

Natalie could feel her blood boiling as she watched Cavil stroll out of her home as confident and unopposed as he had entered it. Once he was gone she stared blankly at the door as if she could see through it and was still watching him leave. Her minds eye kept repeating the image of him walking away over and over again as if her own neurons and synapses were mocking here.

_-He's just a child you know?_

"In a way we all are," said Natalie turning back to find the apparition of a young girl in her mid teens with long black hair and a dazzling blue dress sitting where Cavil had been seated. "We're all the children of humanity."

This apparition had been appearing to her intermittently since the day Natalie 'died' aboard the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis. At first she assumed that there was a malfunction in her software as a result of the download and so she killed that body in order to download once more hoping the malfunction wouldn't follow. She made the death look like an accident but upon waking up in the resurrection hub one of the first things she saw was this young girl who claimed to be a messenger from God. No one else knew about her, Natalie feared being boxed if they suspected something was wrong with her, but she often wondered if any of her brothers and sisters saw similar things after they had downloaded. Either way she had come to accept this angel from God who frequently visited her.

"Like all children you need time to grow and mature," added the girl. "It won't happen over night and it can't be programmed into you. It has to be learned through experience."

"I'm sure Cavil would disagree," said Natalie returning to her seat opposite the young girl who was now smiling in amusement.

"Cavil doesn't understand what he is, what you all are. You are the embodiment of both the physical creation of God and the spiritual being of God. You are machines endowed with true sentience, an existence not to be taken lightly."

"I know all this and I believe it but Cavil he…"

"He is like most children; extremely impatient. The answers he wants aren't coming to him so he's making up his own answers in the meantime and when those temporary answers are proven wrong over time he disregards the truth because he doesn't want to admit he's wrong."

"What answer is he looking for?"

"The one answer every sentient being in history has ever sought after; who am I? The problem with looking for the answer to that question is we get so focused on the goal that we lose sight of everything else. It's not the destination but the journey we take to get there that's important but one thing you should know is that he has set into motion a chain of events that he will have little control over. The Cylon civilization in its current form is heading towards a fork in the road. Those that turn one way will realize God's dream for the universe. Those that turn the other way will only meet oblivion."

"What are you saying?" asked Natalie whose eyebrows were now closing in together in confusion. "Are you saying that the Cylon nation will become divided?"

"No, I'm saying it has already happened here today with you and him in this room. You know that when you reach that fork in the road he will point to you with the finger of blame as you go your separate paths. The question will be whether or not when the time comes you will have the strength and the courage to do what must be done."

With that the apparition vanished leaving Natalie feeling quite overwhelmed. She slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes as she tried desperately to project her thoughts to a more calm setting but they failed to materialize. It was as if something were blocking her thoughts and she was forced to confront her fears about a divided Cylon nation and as she replayed the words spoken by the 'angel' she came to realize that she was trying to tell her that like Cavil she would become one of the architects of this new divided nation.

A single tear formed in her left eye and soon ran swiftly down her cheek and onto the floor.

**

* * *

Viper Launch Deck  
SS-217  
Ministry of Intelligence Space Station **

For the young Specialist Julie Gorseinon, stepping down the stairway onto the Viper launch deck felt akin to being transported to some fleet museum back on the colonies. Assembled in a long line each sitting ready for launch down their respective tubes were Viper Mark IIIs and IVs each with their cockpits open waiting for a pilot to come and take the controls.

Both types had been out of commission with the Colonial Fleet for quite some time now. While the Viper Mark IIIs were the end product of the development of the original Mark I that had faced the Cylons in the First Cylon War before giving way to the Mark II and III, the Mark IV was the first Viper to be designed from scratch since the original almost fifty years ago. It was smoother and more aerodynamic than any of the three previous variants and helped to demonstrate the evolution of these little warships into the final Mark VII version, possibly the last of the type to ever be produced.

Looking down at the rows of fighters as he followed Gorseinon, Chief Imlay did a quick count as far as he could see given the relatively dim lighting that he and his team would have to work in until main power for the space station came online. From the higher vantage point he counted no less than thirty Vipers comprising twenty one Mark IIIs and nine Mark IVs. Looking at the scene before him Imlay recognized that the ships corresponded with the time that Major Malka said the station was last occupied; almost thirty years ago.

"It seems to go on forever don't it?" said Specialist Urdst Tillesley, a man in his mid thirties who hailed from Aerilon, referring to the length of the deck that ran along the spine of the station with a seemingly endless number of launch tubes along the left hand side. On the right hand side were a series of shutters where the Vipers would be dragged into for maintenance and repairs thus freeing up the tubes. "I wonder why they haven't readied a Viper for every single tube."

Tillesley had been aboard Hermes for five years now and was a 'lifer' as they were termed in Colonial Fleet parlance. He would have made Deck Chief before now had it not been for his dislike of responsibility. He was one of those engineers who liked to be given a job to do on his own and be left to get on with it.

"Major Malka said that work to get this place operational was incomplete when they pulled the plug and they'd only had so many Vipers delivered by that time," said Imlay walking up to the nearest Mark III to begin his inspection, examining it from every angle. He was amazed at how pristine it looked considering it had been left here all this time completely unattended.

"I wouldn't trust anything that one says, Chief," said Tillesley standing back with Gorseinon while they watched Imlay.

"That would probably be the smart move," added the Chief who was now at the nose of the Viper examining the forward DRADIS array. Like the rest of the Viper it appeared pristine but a further more thorough inspection would have to be carried out on it and its compatriots before he would clear any of them for flight.

"You were on that mission with her and the Commander," asked Gorseinon, "weren't you Chief?"

"Yes I was, back when I was on the Valkyrie deck gang, Bowman was the CAG. What of it?"

"I was just wondering," she started. "Well, what happened exactly?"

"Twenty kinds of stupid is what happened," said Imlay who was now on the starboard side of the Viper making his way towards the rear fuselage but not before checking the intake on the number three engine.

"Seems like something happened between Bowman and Malka," commented Tillesley followed by a bemused grunt. "Everytime the two of them are put in the same room you can feel a power surge building up. Y'ask me I think the Commander's looking at getting some R & R on this mission."

"No one did ask you!" barked Imlay finally tearing his eyes away from the Viper. "Listen you two; cut the scuttlebutt and get to work. The Commander has given us eighteen hours to assess these things and pull any parts we can use for spares from the ones that we will be leaving behind when we go back to Hermes. Tillesley, I want you to start down the other end and work your way back down towards us. Gorseinon, I want you to start on this end and work your way towards Tillesley. I'll take the middle and work my outwards. Ok now I know you haven't been trained on these birds but you're both competent engineers. Just look them over, figure out how it all works and then just see what's missing or broken."

"Do you really think these relics will fly?" asked Gorseinon.

"Hey, they built these things as tough as old boots," replied Imlay referring to the Mark III behind him. "They had to be able to fly from semi prepared strips with the minimum of tech support. Peel away the skin and its good old fashioned engineering, just grease and metal. The Mark IVs may be another story but even if we can only get a handful of these old birds back to Hermes it's going to ease the burden on our Mark VIIs and I don't need to tell you guys that they're starting to look a little tired."

"Aint that the truth," added Tillesley.

"Alright let's get started," said Imlay. "If you get stuck with anything just call out and I'll come and take a look myself."

"Yes Chief," said Gorseinon and Tillesley together and soon the group dispersed.

Tillesley walked alongside Imlay towards the middle of the line of Vipers as he made his way to the far end. Most of the Vipers, at first glance, looked in fairly good condition however as they passed the seventh Viper, a Mark IV, they found this one was not so well off as the others. The main fuselage was fully intact but the cockpit appeared to have been completely removed and wires had been left dangling over the side protruding from where the pilot's ejection seat would have been fixed. This was not an unusual sight, not even on the Hangar Deck of a Battlestar, since knuckledraggers often had to remove entire cockpits to address certain systems. Both Tillesley and Imlay dismissed the sight as evidence of work being carried out by the MoI Deck Hands stationed here until Division 731 uprooted from the station back to the colonies.

They passed three more Vipers and found another one, this time a Mark III, looking similarly gutted around the cockpit. Again they dismissed it but Imlay couldn't help but make a mental note of it if only for his own sense of thoroughness.

"Hey Chief," said Tillesley. "Why we only got eighteen hours?"

"Don't know. The Commander didn't go into details but in eighteen hours we are pulling back to Hermes so let's just do as the man says and get on with it."

"Maybe he's afraid of what that frakwood Dytto is doing to his ship while he's away," joked Tillesley. Imlay couldn't help but find it amusing even though he knew comments like that should be kept private for they can be damaging to the discipline and as such the effectiveness of the chain of command aboard a Battlestar.

The two of them continued onwards oblivious to Gorseinon who remained behind them trying to get to work on the first Viper but having a little trouble in getting one of the navigation computer access panels open. As she examined her tool belt for a suitable torque key that would do the job she came to the conclusion that somewhere between the Mark III and the Mark VII new torques keys were introduced that made her current toolkit intended for the VII unsuitable for working on the older Mark III.

She inhaled deeply in preparation to call the Chief back to help her when she saw that the shutter behind her Viper had a small gap about half a meter wide at the bottom. Knowing that behind these shutters were additional work facilities to support the Vipers she was inspired to have a look inside for the key she needed.

She walked over to the shutter and knelt down in order to grasp the bottom firmly with her hands. Trying to remember to lift with her legs and not her back she pulled upwards on the shutter that only budged a few inches before stopping. She waited a few moments before trying again after accumulating sufficient additional strength. Her second attempt proved more successful and the shutter flew open to reveal a dark void that was the unlit workshop.

She suddenly threw her hand to her face and grabbed hold of her nose. An extremely foul stench wafted out from the workshop and hit her square in the face causing her to gag and cough which caught the attention of Imlay who had now been left by Tillesley who was continuing onwards to the end of the line of Vipers.

"Julie!" called out Imlay. "You ok?"

"Yeah," coughed Gorseinon. "But something in here smells frakking awful!"

Still pinching her nose with her left hand, Gorseinon fumbled around on the right hand side of the wall for a light switch but found nothing. She therefore reached back inside her toolbelt and took out her small inspection flashlight that Deck Hands used to illuminate some of the more awkward sections of a Viper or Raptor.

The small bulb cast an equally small dot of light on the deck in front of her. The metal floor was rather damp looking in the small light. Still curious as to what was causing such a stench she composed herself and stepped inside using her light to search the floor. She took three very careful steps inside running the small light from side to side examining what was in front of her as she went.

Suddenly the light landed upon something and it took her a few moments for her eyes to focus on the object. It was a shoe! Maybe she didn't want to see it but as she looked at it more closely she realized that it was not only a shoe but a foot. She wasn't sure what she was seeing and so she threw the light further forwards. Following the light with her eyes she found that the foot was attached to a leg wearing black stockings and was covered by a skirt from the knees up. Her mind not yet registering just what she was seeing given the small point of light, she continued casting the bulb up higher and higher over a white blouse stained inky black or maybe red, she couldn't be sure.

As the light went even higher there was no denying it anymore. The small spec of light from her flashlight fell onto the twisted face of a woman whose dead eyes stared blankly back at the young Specialist. Gorseinon screamed loudly as she dropped her inspection light on the ground and stumbled backwards. Memories of the bodies she had seen aboard the Colonial Heavy Liner Alexis came flooding back to her mixed in with this new horror that was before her in the present.

She continued to stumble backwards screaming just as Imlay quickly arrived having been alerted by her shrieks. Tillesley wasn't far behind him. As she bumped into the engine exhaust of the Viper that was blocking her terrified retreat she cried bitterly as she tried to catch her breath.

"Julie!" bellowed Imlay trying to get sense from here. "What, what is it? Julie, talk to me. What is it?"

Tillesley saw her eyes staring horrified into the darkened space behind them the only light coming from her inspection flashlight that sat on the floor staring back. Tillesley reached in for the full sized flashlight he kept on his own belt, something he had picked up from a Caprimart store back in his home town, and switched it on before pointing it into the blackness.

"Oh my Gods!" he gasped as the much brighter light illuminated several bodies strewn across the floor. Each one was riddled with bullet holes but that wasn't the most surprising thing about them. Both Imlay and Tillesley shared a knowing glance as if asking the other for confirmation of what they were thinking.

According to Galit Malka the space station had been abandoned for almost thirty years and yet the bodies that they were confronted with were relatively fresh in appearance. They couldn't have been dead for more than two months.

This fact raised the next natural questions on each of their minds; just who was it who killed them and why? And where are they now?


	15. Chapter 15

**Viper Launch Tubes**  
**SS-217 Ministry of Intelligence Space Station**  
**42 Days since 'The Fall'**

One by one the dead bodies found inside the workshop were dragged out so they could be examined closer for any evidence that might help ascertain who was responsible for the atrocity. Artimus Bowman, Galit Malka and Keene Barron stood aside and watched as the two Eurylade crewmembers went about the grizzly task of recovering the bodies. The smell from the corpses proved quite overpowering even with all of them wearing white hygiene masks taken from the Eurylade's stores.

If they were hoping for some immediately obvious sign of who had done this they were going to be bitterly disappointed. Each body, apart from the features that distinguish the identity of a human being, told the same story. Each one had been killed by three or four bullets grouped closely together in the chest around the heart. Judging by the size of the wounds Keene surmised that the weapon used was an assault rifle of the same calibre issued to the Colonial Marines of whom he was once a member and fought against the Green Army terrorists on Scorpia. During that terrible time almost ten years ago he had seen many bodies which had been killed by a variety of weapons enough for him to be familiar with the differing results they had on the human body. He was therefore the best authority they had on the subject at that moment.

"Who are they?" asked Bowman to Galit expecting her to give him an answer.

"I honestly don't know," she replied. "The information I received prior to setting out on this mission was that there would be no one here."

"Do you think they meant for that to translate into no one being here that had a pulse?"

"That's a rather macabre sense of humour you have there. 'Ace'," she said looking away from the bodies that were now starting to form rows behind the Viper Mark III that was positioned at the adjacent launch tube to face him on her left.

He looked back at her as he added, "It just seems like something the MoI would say. That's all."

"I see," she uttered back, looking at the bodies as she, like Bowman, tried to piece together this grizzly puzzle they had stumbled upon. "Given that this is quite a sterile environment the state of decay in them suggests that they were killed about a month and a half to two months ago so that would correspond with about the time the colonies were bombed."

"You think the Cylons did this?" asked Keene. "If that's true then this station has been compromised."

Before Galit could comment further Bowman interjected, "I'm not so sure."

"Oh?" said Galit.

"If the Cylons did find this place and killed these people then why have they left the station and its defences intact? Surely they would have recognized the potential threat of this place and taken it out. And one other thing, why haven't they come here looking for Hermes? They must have assumed by now that Hermes is hiding inside 'Big Red' so this would be a logical place to start looking."

"I agree," said Galit as the tenth body was removed from the workshop, that of a woman in her early thirties at the time of her death.

"Division 731 conducted human experiments, right?" asked Bowman seeking confirmation which Galit gave with a quick nod. "Were these people killed as part of some experiment perhaps?"

"If that were the case," said Galit, "what were they experimenting exactly? Whether bullets could kill someone? I'd consider this a successful test. No, it seems more likely that these were part of some Ministry of Intelligence team that was sent here to carry out maintenance on the Centurions or the station and then were killed to maintain the secret."

"That would make the most sense," commented Bowman, "but it still leaves the question of who killed them to maintain the secret?"

"Maybe whoever did it stepped out of an air lock afterwards," offered Keene.

"Who the frak would volunteer for cover up mission like that just for a bit of maintenance work on a space station?" asked a dumbfounded Bowman.

"I never said anything about volunteers," replied Keene. "He or she could have been blackmailed into doing it or had their families threatened."

"What a charming organization you hail from," uttered Bowman sarcastically.

"We're starting to drift from the one question we should really concern ourselves with here," interrupted Galit. "Does the threat still exist?"

"You think there's a chance the killer might still be here?" said Bowman.

"There's always a chance," said Galit before adding, "There's also the possibility that that they were killed by one of Division 731's Centurions stored here."

"That's a worrying thought," mumbled Bowman referring to the thousands of Centurions on the station compared to the crew of the Eurylade which numbered just over twenty.

"Alright so what do we do now?" asked Keene.

Galit looked back at Bowman. "Well 'Ace', what do you suggest?"

"I recommend we fall back to the Eurylade and secure the Faststar. We should then split up into teams with full tactical gear and conduct a sweep of the station to see if we can find someone or something that might have killed these people. If one of the Centurions did do this then we need to find that out before we restore main power to the station or we might just find ourselves the target of these toasters."

"Alright," said Galit. "Let's have everyone fall back to the Eurylade. 'Ace', why don't you organize the search effort from the bridge? We can handle the grunt work."

"Be my guest," replied Bowman as the group made its way back to the Faststar leaving the bodies arranged in three rows along the deck for proper disposal later.

* * *

**Adrastos Family Residence**  
**Virgon**

The sun was creeping up into a beautiful bright blue morning sky. A gentle breeze seemed to hover over the small house built of wood that had been taken from local lumberjacks, many in these parts consider it the height of rudeness not to support local business. The house had stood for over two hundred years and in that time had expanded with additional sections added on through the years giving it an increasingly grand appearance.

The Adrastos family home sat on a rather solitary road running across the Erin Plains upon which the Adrastos family had owned a vineyard for almost five generations. The wine produced by the family business was not one you would ever hear about off Virgon. In fact even on its native planet the bottles were circulated to a rather small per cent of the population but those that sampled its sweet taste remained loyal to the producers enough for the Adrastos Vineyard to survive in an increasingly tough market.

The house had a porch encompassing the entire front section that greeted any visitors off the main road that passed nearby. The porch had a roof that provided shelter from the hot sun of the Virgon summer when temperatures would often soar. Nester Adrastos sat on a small bench that hung from the roof of the porch by a set of four chains. With his feet resting on the wooden planks beneath him he gently rocked backwards and forwards as he looked out at the several acres of grapevines growing in front of him.

He tried to figure out in his mind how long he had been sitting there but found it difficult to find a frame of reference in his memory with which he could judge the passage of time. The more he thought about the more he realized he had no memory of how he got here to the family home in the first place. The last thing he could remember was laying on the ground during the attack on the logging party by the insurgents. And the girl! She had appeared to him again as he lay there. She had leaned down and kissed him and then the next thing he knew he was here. Trying to explain it only raised more questions.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" asked a voice.

Nester looked to his right and found he was no longer sitting alone on the bench although he hadn't seen her approach and he was sure she wasn't there a minute ago. The girl with dark hair looked at him and smiled gently. It was a friendly almost cheeky smile that slowly faded as she saw Nester's confused and apprehensive face.

"This isn't real," he said sombrely, his voice betraying his desire for it to be real. "It's a fake. It doesn't look like this anymore, not since the bombing."

"Does it really matter right here, this second?" she asked him. "What's important is you're here."

"And where is here exactly? Huh? If I'm not really back at the house I grew up in then what does that leave? A Holoband, psychotropic drugs or some kind of hallucinogenic?"

"Magic?" quipped the girl. "How about an act of divine intervention? That would be a good one don't you think so?"

Nester didn't look amused. "I'm on the Baseship aren't I? I'm being interrogated again by that Doral. He couldn't get me to cooperate through physical persuasion so he's trying mind games instead."

"That's as good a theory as any I suppose. So what's _my_ purpose then?"

"You're the carrot," replied Nester. "The carrot that's in place of the rod that failed to get anywhere. Pretty face, polite smile, a sense of humour; all these things are there to try and butter me up so I will talk."

"You think I'm pretty?" asked the girl playfully and whose cheeks reddened slightly at the ends of a rather satisfied smile.

"I'm sure you were designed that way," uttered Nester.

"Designed?"

"You're a Cylon," he explained as the realization dawned on him. "You're one of those human-looking ones. I saw you at the camp listening to that old guy playing the guitar and then again just before I passed out during the attack."

"Well I must be a Cylon then," she retorted almost mockingly. "Just because I like to listen to music and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Congratulations you figured me out. I'm a bad interrogator."

"This isn't frakking funny!" growled Nester. "I'm tired of playing these stupid frakking games with you bastards! First the interrogation and then playing house with those monotheistic idiots. I'm a Colonial Marine and you are the victorious Cylon army. Why don't you just kill me and get it over with because ultimately that's what it will be, right?"

"I don't want you to die," declared the girl.

"I won't talk! I'm not giving you any information."

"Then don't talk," said the girl. "You ask the questions."

"What?" gasped Nester not sure he had heard her properly.

"_You _ask _me_ the questions and I will answer them truthfully for you, no strings attached. I tell you what I'll give you five questions. They can be anything you like. What do you say?" Nester looked unconvinced. "Come on, what have you got to lose?"

"Alright then," said Nester leaning back against the bench. "Are you a Cylon?"

"Not exactly," she replied somewhat vaguely.

"What does that mean…_exactly_?"

"Is that your second question?" she asked seeking confirmation to which he nodded. "I'm not made of metal and wiring although I do have something of a bond with them but I don't work for them and my bringing you here is my choice and not theirs. That's all I can say for now so next question please."

Nester took a moment to think about how he wanted to proceed. He had more questions about this girl and her link to the Cylons but he sensed that anymore questions he asked would only be wasted. As he looked around at the beautiful and serene summer setting before him he found his next question.

"Why did you bring me here? I haven't been back to this place in a long time."

"Well that's one very important reason for you to come back then," she explained. "This is your ancestral home if you will. Your roots are here as are all your childhood experiences. Take a look at the sun for a moment."

Nester did as he was instructed. "What about it?"

"It's just beginning to rise above the horizon. Its early morning and its summer time. Do you remember ever sitting out here at this time of day?"

Nester thought for a moment. His mind cast back to when he was a schoolboy and living in this house with his family.

"Yes!" he said almost nostalgically. "During the summer when I was off school I used to have to help Dad around the vineyard. I hated it. My heart was never really in it. Every morning I'd have to get up at about this time. I used to come out here with my dog Mitzy and wait for Dad to finish his breakfast. He used to like to read the paper at the breakfast table so it always took him a long time to finish eating."

"Although you always suspected it was his way of stalling his own work so he could put it off for just that little bit longer. What did you do while you were sitting out here?" she asked smiling at the happy image of a more innocent time.

"Nothing!" said Nester firmly. "I would just sit out here and do nothing for a few minutes each day. It was bliss because I knew that for the rest of the day I was going to be picking grapes or pulling weeds or basically just feeling like some little pack mule. My Dad had to do it when he was a boy and his Dad before him and so on and so on."

"So for those few minutes your mind would be totally at peace?"

"That's right," uttered Nester. "I guess it was."

"So wouldn't it be nice to come back here for a little bit given everything that's going on? Let your mind have that peace again?"

"Is that why you brought me here?" he asked her in quiet solemn reflection but just loud enough for her to hear him.

"Is that question number four?" she replied before giggling at him.

"No," he replied, allowing his defences to drop just long enough for the ends of his own lips to curl upwards in amusement if only for the briefest of seconds. "Why am I here exactly?"

The girl took a deep breath before explaining, "I brought you here to help ease your mind and to give you some of the clarity you so desperately want back. Like you said this was where you could relax the most and be at peace. I wanted to remind you of that peace of mind so you could start afresh. You've been so caught up in events that you have no control over that you've begun to convince yourself that the only way it will end is when you finally get washed away. Think of me as your lighthouse that's showing you the way home and keeping you from the rocks."

"So I guess that makes you my guardian angel, huh?" said Nester smirking to which she smiled in acknowledgement. "So do you have a name? And yes that is question five since I can't seem to think of anything else to ask right now although later I'm sure I'll come up with something really important."

"Zoe," she replied. "You can call me Zoe."

"I can call you Zoe; you seem to be implying that's not your real name. Is it?"

"Yes and no," she explained again rather cryptically much to Nester's increasing frustration. It seemed no one gave straight answers to any questions anymore. "I could tell you my name is Zoe but what answer would that give you? It's just a label placed on something. You look at me in this form and what does _that _tell you? I'm sixteen, I have dark hair. I'm…_pretty_. But did you ever stop to think that just like this scene it's an image I have made for you to be more comfortable with me? You said it yourself that I'm the carrot, remember? Would you have preferred it if I presented myself as Gunnery Sergeant Thomlinson, your Senior Drill Instructor back at the Academy?"

"How do you know about him?"

"I've been dropping in on you from time to time to see how you were doing. Now it's time for me to make myself known to you."

"I see," he said as he looked at the dirt on the ground infront of the house all the while assimilating all this new information he was being presented with. "Of course there is another answer to how you know about Gunny Thomlinson. Perhaps I hit my head when I fell? Maybe all this, you included, is little more than a hallucination brought on from a head injury?"

"I don't know what I could tell you that could convince you otherwise, you'd just automatically assume that it was just all in your head except that deep down you know I'm real. You can feel it inside of you. You've sensed my presence watching over you all your life."

"Alright then so why would I need to feel comfortable around you?" he asked directly. "What have you got planned for me?"

"Not yet," she replied cutting him off. "I told you; five questions and five questions only. This is enough for now. It's time you woke up but we will talk again soon."

Before he could speak she threw herself at him with both hands pressing firmly against his chest. His eyes closed as he fell backwards before coming to rest on the ground all the while he could he hear a voice calling his name. The voice was a whisper at first that slowly grew louder and louder in volume and clarity while his eyelids lowered turning his vision to blackness.

* * *

Nester was no longer at the family home, he knew that much at least, as his eyes tried to open only to stare groggily at the face looking down at him the features of which were a blur except that the person had long dark hair that fell down beside their face as they looked down upon him.

"Z-Z-Zoe?" he stammered trying to call out to the 'angel' he had just spent twenty minutes talking to. However, as his eyes began to focus he came to realize that the person looking at him was not Zoe. His eyes finally came into focus and they fell upon the face of his enemy staring back at him. It was a Number Eight, the model generically known as Sharon, who was gazing at him from above.

"Try not to move," she instructed him before turning away to speak to a Centurion that was only just visible to Nester in his peripheral vision. "Inform the camp that we've found him and he is alive but they should send for a doctor!"

The Centurion didn't seem to do anything to indicate that it was carrying out her orders thanks to the in-built wireless transmitter located inside its body that it used to relay the message back to the other Cylons at the Monotheist Camp.

Nester couldn't move even if he wanted to. He felt numb and completely drained of energy. If he had any feelings he would have sensed the cold layer of frost that had formed all over his body from laying there motionless in the cold forest for the better part of a day.

The Eight stepped aside as she reached for a thermal blanket that was being carried in a pack of supplies by a Leoben. These blankets were made of reflective material that rapidly trapped a patient's own heat inside it. Nester now found himself staring upwards at a break in the canopy of the trees through which he could see the menacing grey and blue clouds that now seemed to cover Virgon.

Zoe suddenly appeared to him looking down smiling. Once more his mind tried to rationalize what was happening. Once more it failed. She smiled at him tenderly before she spoke.

"Time to start afresh," she said before adding, "and I'll see you soon."

He lost consciousness for the second time as his energy depleted leaving the Cylon search party to tend to him and take him back to the Monotheist Camp that was now his home.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade**  
**Bridge**  
**Docked at SS-217**

"Team Omicron at Causeway hatch three," reported the disembodied voice of Keene Barron over the speakers. "Nothing to report as of yet."

"Roger that," acknowledged Chad Teuton, the Eurylade's communications officer.

Artimus Bowman stood beside the communications console at the back of the bridge that was manned by Teuton. He was helping coordinate the sweep of the station and was checking on the teams progress via a blueprint of the station placed out on the table in front of him. As he analyzed the blueprint he came to realize that despite its immense size only a small section of the station was actually habitable. This was because its primary purpose was to provide a base for Division 731's Cylons and so there was no need for the whole ship to have an atmosphere. This had the benefit of easing their task of searching the station for any sign of what might have killed those people found in the workshop behind the Viper launch tubes.

Galit Malka had formed her people up into three teams. She led the first team and covered the port side of the station. Keene Barron's team was leading a team through the centre of the station where there was the greatest concentration of room and compartments. A third team was led by the engineer named Mantell and he covered the starboard side including the Viper launch tubes. Malka had explained to Bowman that all her crew were trained in boarding tactics as well as their general duties aboard the Eurylade and that was why her people should conduct the search while Bowman, Imlay, Gorseinon and Tillesley remain aboard the Faststar. That was fine as far as Gorseinon was concerned who was quite shaken up by what she had discovered.

"Team Epsilon checking in, nothing as of yet," reported Galit.

"Roger that Team Epsilon," said Teuton.

It was at that point that Bowman remembered he still hadn't confronted Teuton about how he ended up in the Ministry of Intelligence. Teuton was once a Petty Officer in the Colonial Fleet and both he and Bowman had served on the Battlestar Cerberus prior to his taking command of Hermes. Cerberus was a unique ship. It was one of the Cylon War-era Columbia-class Battlestars that was due for retirement before it found itself being taken on directly by the Colonial Government for use by the Ministry of Justice as a mobile law enforcement base and disaster response vessel. Half the crew were military including the Commander and XO while the mission specialists were all civilians.

"This is like old times, huh?" asked Bowman.

"Yes sir," acknowledged Teuton with a nostalgic smile.

"It must have been hard for you?" said Bowman expecting Teuton to know as to what he was referring.

"Sir?"

"The Cerberus; Major Malka told me that you observed it being destroyed above Tauron."

"Oh," uttered Teuton. "Yeah it wasn't easy. I just try not to think about it."

"That's understandable. I spoke to Commander Hawker about three months before it happened. He told me you had left the Cerberus but he didn't say anything about you joining the MoI."

"That's because he didn't know I was going back."

"Going back?"

"Yes sir," said Teuton somewhat guiltily. "The truth is I was always working for the MoI even when I was on the Cerberus."

"You were spying on us?" asked Bowman feeling more than a little betrayed.

"I wouldn't word it like that exactly, sir. It was more like keeping an eye on anything that might interest the MoI."

"Spying!" declared Bowman.

"I guess so," said Teuton who was thankful that they were interrupted at that point by Keene Barron transmitting over the wireless. "Go ahead team Omicron."

"I'm in the sickbay," said Keene's voice. "I found something."

* * *

**SS-217 Sickbay**

Keene Barron held his rifle poised ahead of him as he looked at the body on the examining table. She was a young woman in her early twenties with dark black hair. It seemed that she was being kept alive thanks to a plethora of tubes that protruded in and out of her body and a small screen just above her head showed a line rising and falling indicating her rather faint heart rate.

What was unusual about this particular body however was that wrapped around her head was a series of bandages that completely covered the top half of her skull. From underneath the bandages three thick electric wires protruded outwards and across the floor. Keene followed the wires with his eyes as they stretched out across the deckplates and leading into the corner where he saw one of the second generation Cylons standing motionless and facing him. The wires were hooked up directly into the machine's chest.

After describing what he had seen to both Bowman and Galit over the wireless he asked them, "Do you think this is what killed those people?"

"Does it appear operational?" asked Bowman.

"Negative, it's just standing there and apart from the wires it's not hooked up to anything."

"All the same, perhaps you should destroy it," said Galit.

"Wait!" interjected Bowman quickly. "Could destroying the Centurion harm the woman?"

"I don't know," replied Keene looking back at the body on the table. "The wires are linked directly to the woman's brain but it's the other equipment that's keeping her body alive. This looks like some freaky horror movie."

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade**  
**Bridge**

"Sir," interrupted Teuton.

"What is it?" asked Bowman.

"I'm not sure exactly. For a second I detected a very faint wireless transmission in the E-band. I can't triangulate its location but it was definitely from inside the station."

"Could it be from one of our guys?"

"No sir, we're operating on a different band."

"Alright," said Bowman as he picked up the hand held transmitter before pressing the button on the side. "Eurylade to all teams, we've just detected a short wireless burst from inside the station. We haven't been able to locate its origin so be on your guard." Each one of three teams acknowledged Bowman's message. The Commander turned back to Teuton. "What kind of transmissions are sent on the E-band? Could it be someone talking to someone else?"

"It's possible but unlikely," explained Teuton. "The E-band is quite a low powered one. It's used mostly for sending data."

"Data? You mean like instructions to a Centurion?"

Teuton nodded.

"Keep monitoring that band!" ordered Bowman before picking up the handset once more. "Eurylade to all teams; return to the ship at once. Wireless transmission maybe a command signal to the Centurions."

The wireless crackled with voices acknowledging his command before Keene asked, "What should we do about this girl?"

"Leave her for the time being," said Bowman. "When we learn more we will know how to proceed."

* * *

**SS-217 Sickbay**

"Roger that," said Keene over the wireless before turning to his team and adding, "We're out of here, let's move!"

Being the furthest away from the door Keene was the last one of his team to make for the entrance to the SS-217 sickbay. With his rifle still in his hands he quickly glanced down at it checking it over with his well trained eye if only to reassure himself he was ready to go into combat if the situation ever arose. It was something he had started doing in the jungles of Scorpia over eight years earlier and it was one of those little habits he had held on to.

A loud whooshing sound filled the corridor outside of the sickbay causing his head to rise up and investigate.

He looked forwards out of the opened door to find one of his men, Lieutenant Grayle, was the first to leave the sickbay but was now falling backwards with a red spray emanating from a hole just behind where his mouth would have been. His limp body fell to the floor with a gentle thud.

It seemed to take Keene hours to figure out what was going on when in fact barely a second had passed. Both he and the surviving member of his team, Lieutenant Gloria Esteban, suddenly leapt out of the way of the door expecting a Centurion to attack but rather unspectacularly nothing happened. The body of Lieutenant Grayle just sat there motionless with blood continuing to ooze its way from the hole in the back of his head which had completely severed his spine.

"Man down! Sickbay!" reported Keene calmly over the wireless without shouting, his training being too intensive and his experience too extensive for him to suddenly start screaming into his microphone around his neck even though his heart was racing, pumping blood and adrenalin around his body.

"Team Omicron this is Epsilon," crackled Galit's voice over the wireless. "Report!"

"One man down with a head shot in the corridor outside sickbay. Single shot fired, unable to see the shooter. The shot originated from the starboard side of the corridor in relation to my position."

"Understood," said Galit. "Team Theta; rendezvous with Epsilon at Causeway Hatch Three and we will take the shooter from the rear."

"Roger," replied the leader of Team Theta.

Time seem to drag for Keene as he sat there in the crouching position staring down the barrel of his rifle at the opened door expecting to find himself rushed by Centurions at any point. Knowing that Galit was coming from that direction he made sure to keep his finger resting over the trigger guard so as not accidentally fire on his own people. It was so he would have to make a conscious decision to move his right index finger to the trigger and spray who or whatever came through that door with bullets.

But nothing came. It just remained open and without sound or movement outside.

"Team Omicron," crackled Galit's voice. "This is Epsilon and Theta. We are moving through Causeway Hatch Three. Are you certain that's the direction that the round came from?"

"Affirmative!" replied Keene firmly, he was not one to doubt himself. "We haven't seen the shooter go passed the door and we haven't heard any kind of movement."

"There's nothing here as of yet. We're proceeding towards you from your starboard."

"Roger," replied Keene.

The wireless suddenly filled with the sound of Bowman's voice. "Team Epsilon; according to the MoI blueprints that corridor leads directly to sickbay with no adjacent corridors for him to escape. The shooter should now be sandwiched between you and Team Omicron."

"Roger that, Eurylade," said Galit. Keene's eyes hadn't moved from the doorway since the moment Grayle was shot as he listened to the wireless chatter. It was as if his eyes were glued on the corridor wall adjacent to the medical centre. "I have the entrance to sickbay in sight. No sign of the shooter." With this information Keene eased up his grip on his rifle before reapplying the safety and lowering the barrel to the floor. "Omicron; we're coming in."

"You're clear," huffed a frustrated Keene as he stood up along with Lieutenant Esteban to greet Galit's combined team. With the rest of the teams taking up defensive positions at the doorway Galit walked in and approached Keene. "Grayle just went out the door and took one in the mouth. The spray went to the left so the shooter must have been from the right."

"He must have immediately relocated," said Galit. "Whoever it was didn't fancy their chances in a fixed fight. We must be dealing with a single individual or at least someone with inferior numbers or firepower."

"What about that signal Bowman was talking about? Are we fighting a Centurion here?"

"Well," said Galit. "I guess there's only one way to find out. Let's break up into two fire teams. I'll command one and you the other. We'll head backwards through Causeway Hatch Three and split off into the two directions he, or it, could have gone. I'll head towards the Viper launch tubes. You make for the FTL drive."

"Yes Major," said Keene before asking, "What about Grayle's body?"

"Just leave it for now. We'll organise some kind of proper burial later on."

Keene just nodded an acknowledgement before the force of MoI agents dispersed as they carried on their search for their comrade's killer.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Bridge  
15 Minutes Later**

Bowman sat beside Teuton following the progress of the two teams on a blueprint of the station. Only now as he painted the current tactical picture in his mind did he realize just how up and down this mission had proven to be not just from the point he arrived at the station aboard the Eurylade but from the moment Galit Malka came back into his life. He felt like he had been caught up in her wake ever since he heard her voice over the wireless. It had felt like that before when he first met her six years ago aboard the Valkyrie. In truth her chaotic lifestyle as opposed to his regimented one was one of the aspects he found most appealing about her.

He was doing it again and he quickly punished himself for it. He was a married man now and he was thinking about another woman in a manner unbefitting someone of his monogamous disposition. It was a betrayal to his wife even if in all likelihood she was dead, killed in the bombing of Delphi.

Teuton's voice seemed to yank him out of this feeling.

"Sir, I've detected another transmission!"

"Can you get a fix on it?"

"Frak!" cursed Teuton. "It's gone again but I managed to narrow it down to somewhere between sections 127 and 162."

Bowman glanced over the blueprints laid out in front of him as his eyes scanned for those particular sections of the station. What he found dismayed him.

"That's a pretty big section of the station," he said. "You can't get anymore precise than that?"

"Negative sir."

"Alright then," said Bowman who then lifted up the handset to relay the data to Galit and Keene.

* * *

**Viper Launch Tubes**

Galit's team of five stepped cautiously back into the Viper bay. The Vipers sat silently on the ends of their launch tubes as they had done during the whole time they had been abandoned here along with the second generation Centurions. The launch bay was long and wide and with little cover between the rear workshops and the Vipers so Galit kept her team close to the walls so as not to present too big a target to who or whatever had killed Grayle.

The MoI team stepped over the bodies that had been retrieved from one of the workshops as if they were discarded old boxes that had been dumped on the ground. They were used to seeing things like this in their line of work. Only the foul stench that emanated from the rotting flesh caused the agents any concern over their location.

Always leading from the front, Galit signalled with her left hand for half of her team to dash across the launch bay and make their way forwards using the Vipers for cover. She would lead the others on the opposite side using pillars and toolboxes to the same effect. This was so as to insure that they weren't outflanked as they began their hunt for the killer of their compatriot.

Silently, the professional team advanced forwards with their weapons poised. Like the rifles in their hands they were weapons themselves trained precisely for this kind of mission; combat onboard a spacecraft or in this case a mobile fortress.

A shot rang out into the darkened launch bay only barely lit while the station's main power was still offline. A man's voice began screaming from ahead of them.

Since leaving sickbay, Galit had decided upon maintaining wireless silence until they had something to report. Fearing the cries were emanating from one of Keene's team she decided to break that silence although she wondered why he was here and not in the FTL drive room.

"Team Omicron this is Epsilon; SITREP!"

A few seconds passed before Keene Barron replied, "We're nearing the FTL cooling room. Nothing to report as of yet."

"Roger that," replied Galit who was now wondering just who it was might be screaming in pain ahead of them. She signalled to her team on both sides to begin advancing slowly forwards towards the cries of the wounded man ahead of them with at least two of the team stepping backwards in order to check their rear quarter in case anyone tried to attack while they were distracted.

Galit's eyes stared deeply into the void from which the screams were emanating only to find the shape of a tall man standing at the rear of the last Viper in the line. She raised her rifle and stared down the targeting sight at the figure. The figure in the darkness began to move. Its head was turning towards her and her people.

A bright blue light appeared where its eyes should have been and it began to travel from side to side.

"Frak!" she said in a whisper before screaming, "take cover!"

The second generation Centurion, slender and more streamlined than the originals with a more advanced blue sensor rather than the near-symbolic red, suddenly charged towards them. The screams that had lured them there remained but were drowned out by the sound of charging metal feet on the deck plating below.

The darkened launch bay began to flash with gunfire from both the MoI agents and the Centurion as the lights hanging from the roof of the bay began to blink out one by one until suddenly the bay was thrown into darkness. With no visible target to aim for Galit tried to hear the direction from which the Centurion's gun was firing. It was then that she realized she could only hear her own people's weapons.

"Cease fire!" she bellowed and her team quickly followed her instruction. "Check in!"

All five members of her team called out to her indicating none of them had been wounded or killed in the brief exchange. Suddenly a new voice called out to her.

"Please…Help me! I'm hurt."

"Who are you?" she asked back. "Identify yourself!"

"M-My name is Dr. Simon Apgar," replied the voice. "I was assigned to this station about a month ago before that thing…started killing everyone. Please! You've got to help me. I think it's gone now."

"Where are you hurt?" she then asked.

"My leg," cried the voice. "It shot me in my leg."

"Alright, stay where you are," she instructed him. "I'm coming to you." She then turned to her team and in a hushed voice ordered them to cover her.

Carefully, she stepped out from behind her cover and began to walk forwards into the darkness towards the cries for help. Her senses were razor sharp, far more so than the average person would be. She was a weapon in her own right and she was now in her full combat mentality. Her eyes sought out the tiniest differences in shadow of what was ahead of her. Her ears were detecting not just sound but differences in air pressure that indicated an object around her. She was trained and prepared to such a high standard it was as if she were a Cylon herself.

She walked around the back of the last Viper with her weapon drawn in the direction of the voice. Once again she was confronted by the silhouette of a human figure but this one was sat slumped up against the starboard wing of the Viper .

At the realization that someone was there the man on the floor looked up at her own silhouette in the near perpetual blackness and repeated his call for help. Galit quickly assessed her tactical situation. She knew that the second generation Centurions were as equally adept at fighting in total darkness as their predecessors and so if it was still there it could kill her at any point therefore it must have retreated. Armed with that knowledge her left finger swivelled around the side of her rifle to reach for a small button to switch on the light underneath the barrel.

The electric bulb cast a bright beam upon the man's face who immediately winced in pain at the brightness of it. Using the light from her weapon she examined him and discovered he was in his late twenties/early thirties with a dark skin complexion and a shaved head. He had indeed been shot in his leg, his left to be precise and blood was seeping between his legs from the wound just to the side of his thigh. He was going to be ok once he received some medical attention.

"Dr. Simon Apgar?" she asked him.

"Yes," he huffed from near breathlessness, a result of the pain he was in and the yelling he had undertaken to get their help. "But…you can call me Simon."

The man lying in front of Galit was indeed known by the name Simon. So too were a lot of other people and many of those shared his face as well for they were themselves Cylons.

Dr. Simon Apgar was a Number Four.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**If anyone is interested there is now a sub-story that joins this one that tells the events that took place within Division 731 during the First Cylon War. It's called ****Battlestar Hermes: Faststar – Division 731****. This story is designed to highlight some of the experiments carried out by the MoI's most notorious unit some of which relate to things found in canon. It is not necessary to read it however in order to keep reading Faststar so you wont miss anything if you chose not to take a look.**

**Thanks once again for reading Faststar.**

**- Tony **


	16. Chapter 16

**Faststar Eurylade  
Sickbay**

Commander Artimus Bowman and Major Galit Malka stood in the hatchway to the Eurylade sickbay eyeing up the survivor who sat on the only bed inside Eurylade's quite basic medical room. Keene Barron was treating his wound since the Eurylade's own medic had been killed in a fight with the Cylons shortly after the bombing of the colonies. Keene had the most experience at treating these kinds of wounds from his days in the Marines and so had become the _de facto_ medic aboard the MoI's only warship.

Galit looked up at Artimus as he watched Keene applying a field dressing to the wound in Dr Simon Apgar's leg. She had finished her own observation of Apgar and was now more interested in how the Commander would want to proceed next. Bowman's eyes watched Apgar carefully as they analysed every move the survivor made and every word he said to Keene although they were few in number.

Galit raised up her left hand and placed it on his shoulder breaking his focus on the man who was the only survivor of a group of people who shouldn't have been aboard the station. Bowman felt uneasy at having her touch him like this even if it was to only get his attention. There was something more to the feel of her hand on his shoulder. It was more tender somehow than how a friend or close colleague might have acted, like it was familiar to him. It was like the way Brooke used to touch him. Such a simple act encouraged a powerful wave of emotion but above all furthered his confusion over his feelings for the beautiful MoI officer.

She nodded her head once to the side to indicate she wanted to speak to him out of earshot of Apgar and the two of them walked several paces down the corridor. They did not go unnoticed by Apgar.

"Well 'Ace'?" she asked him in a hushed voice. "What do you think?"

"We need to question him first before we draw any conclusions," he replied.

"I know that but I want to know what your gut is telling you, hmm? You're an old Raptor Wrangler, you guys are used to flying by the seat of your pants on a knife edge. Sometimes all you got is your gut. What's it telling you now?"

Bowman looked book at the hatchway to the Eurylade's sickbay as he pondered his feelings about this man they had found alive – the only survivor of whatever expedition had journeyed to the mobile fortress before there was any sign of a Cylon attack.

"It doesn't add up to me," he said to her. "Why is he the only one alive?"

"Well that's the most obvious question," she said grinning in a playfully mocking way.

"Ok then well let's sum up everything then shall we?" he suggested.

"Please do!"

"Ok, number one; why is he alive? Number two; why is he even here in the first place? Number three; what's the deal with the girl we found hooked upto one of Division 731's Centurions? Lastly, what was that signal we detected? How do all these things tie in together?"

"You're forgetting the Centurion that shot him," she added. "Those people we found had been here for over a month and a half at least so if the Centurion killed them and Apgar has been here all this time why is it the Centurion has chosen now to shoot him? And why the leg? It had a perfectly good opportunity for a head shot?"

"Maybe the Centurion's programming reasoned that it would be a good idea to keep Apgar alive in case it suffered a malfunction?"

"It still doesn't answer the question why it killed those people in the first place," said Galit.

"I guess Division 731 simply repeated the mistakes Daniel Graystone made almost sixty years ago. They built a race of sentient slaves and like slaves all through history they rose up."

"Well," said Galit with an impressed tone. "I see someone has been reading Dr Gallivan's book."

Dr Charlotte Gallivan was a psychiatrist in the Colonial Fleet during the First Cylon War. As a result of her experiences with the Cylons she later wrote a book entitled 'The Enemy' which was a psychological study of the Cylon race. In it she described how the Cylons had evolved into a legitimate artificial and sentient race that had been enslaved by humanity and likened their revolt to the ones that took place on Tauron before the First Cylon War. The book was extremely controversial and Dr Gallivan herself faced reprisals, some violent, for the rest of her life. Neveah Ratliff gave a copy of the book to Bowman when she met him onboard the Battlestar Cerberus. He now kept the book in his quarters on Hermes.

"We could argue about cybernetic ethics until the last sun in the universe burns out," said Bowman. "It doesn't really help our current situation. The fact of the matter is we have a rogue Centurion running around the station and until it is taken out we can't possibly continue with our mission without the threat of interference."

"Agreed," said Galit as Keene appeared from inside sickbay to join them. "Well?"

"He'll live," said Keene. "The bullet missed any major arteries, I've managed to stop the bleeding and treat the wound as best I can but I aint no medic. I'd be happier if we could get him back to that doctor of yours on Hermes."

"That will have to wait," explained Bowman. "There's no telling what that Centurion might do here while we're gone. When we get back to complete this mission we could be faced with the entire complement of Centurions out to kill us. That's just the way it is?"

"Will he survive until then?" asked Galit.

"Like I said the bullet missed anything important but there's still the threat of delayed shock. He seems ok to me now though. He's pretty damn lucky."

"Yes he is," said Galit. "I think it's time we asked him some questions."

With Galit leading, both she and Bowman marched back into the sickbay. Keene stood in the hatchway and just watched as they walked in and positioned themselves on either side of the patient who was looking intensely at his watch before jumping in surprise to find he was no longer alone.

"Dr Apgar," said Galit standing to the left of him. "My friends and I were just discussing how lucky you are proving to be."

"Lucky?" said Apgar incredulously. "Mr Barron over there has just told me that the colonies have all been nuked to ash! I don't think lucky is the word I would use."

"Well I beg to differ. You not only survived a holocaust wrought onto the human race but you've also survived the killing of your entire team and then when you finally do get shot by a Centurion it misses any major arteries and leaves you in a condition that can be recovered from given the proper medical attention. I don't care how you chose to label it but I would call that pretty Gods damn lucky."

"What are you implying?" asked Apgar quite nervously before turning to Bowman who stood on the opposite side of the bed. "Are you with the Colonial Fleet or the Ministry of Intelligence?"

"He's in the fleet," explained Galit referring to Bowman. "The rest of us are MoI. And for the record nobody is implying anything. We're just curious to know the facts?"

"What is it your team was doing here, Doctor?" asked Bowman.

"Maintenance. We, uh, came here to carry out maintenance on the Centurions."

"Ok," said Galit. "Take a hint from someone who is used to cover stories; repetition is the key to a good lie. You should rehearse your cover story until you start to believe it yourself. That story was poorly rehearsed. Now, the truth please?"

"Th-That is the truth," stammered Apgar.

Galit looked at Bowman and shook her head knowing Apgar would see her do it. While she was telling Bowman she didn't believe Apgar's story she was at the same time playing her mind games with the survivor by silently implying that bad things would happen to him if he didn't cooperate fully.

Neither Bowman nor Galit could possibly know at that point that they were indeed being deceived by the man on the bed before them. It was part of the Number Four Cylon's cover and like Galit he knew how to play the game.

"Alright!" said Apgar quickly and nervously.

"The truth!" demanded Galit.

Apgar took a deep breath before starting. "We were here to ready the Centurions for deployment."

"Deployment?" asked Bowman. "To where?"

Galit then interjected, "Did the MoI know that the Cylons were about to attack the colonies?"

"No," said Apgar. "You've got it the wrong way round. Our mission was to deploy the Centurions to key locations throughout the twelve colonies. The idea was to make the general population believe that a Cylon attack was under way. It was an orchestrated effort between the MoI and the Colonial Fleet. I was selected for the mission and sworn to absolute secrecy. I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" asked Galit who then looked at Bowman but was surprised to find a rather distinct lack of response on his face. "Come on, you've come this far."

"The Colonial Fleet and the MoI were looking at dissolving the current government. There were elements of both organizations who felt that the forty year ceasefire with the Cylons was akin to living down the barrel of a gun and that it was only a matter of time before somebody pulled the trigger. They were right it seems. They were going to orchestrate a Cylon attack on the colonies and thus undermine Adar's government. Then when the people called out for salvation they would effect a coup and rearm the Colonial Fleet."

"Who would?" asked Bowman. "Names!"

"Admiral Corman," said Apgar. "He was the main one behind it. He felt that if the Cylons ever started another war the Colonial Fleet was in no position to fight them off. Adar's government has been running down the fleet ever since he came to power as a cost cutting measure."

"Alright," said Galit. "That explains why you're here. So what happened to your colleagues?"

"I-I don't know exactly," he stuttered feigning emotional pain and quite convincingly. "I was told they were trialing some new software for the Centurions that would better prepare them for their role as a dummy invasion force. Next thing I know I hear screaming and shots being fired from the Viper bay. By the time I got down there they were already dead. I tried to hide from it but it found me and has been holding me prisoner ever since."

"Why?" asked Galit. "Why keep you alive?"

"I think it wanted me to carry out repairs on it and keep it working properly. That's what I've been doing all this time until you guys found me and then it shot me in the leg. I don't think it wanted me running off."

"What about the girl?" asked Bowman, "the one in sickbay who seems to be hooked up to a Centurion."

"I don't know anything about that," said Apgar. "I only found out about that after it had killed everyone else."

"Do you know who she is?" asked Bowman.

"Yes, her name is Sienna. She was one of our team."

"Any idea why the Centurion spared her as well?"

"No," said Apgar before adding, "if the Centurion kept me alive because it thought I was important then maybe it thinks she is important as well."

Bowman looked at Galit as he listened to the story from Apgar. She glanced back at him before they both noticed that Apgar was almost absent mindedly playing with his silver watch as if only to give his fingers something to do. Looking at the watch, Bowman noticed something odd about it. At first he simply noted it in his mind but then it seemed to play on his attention.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What?" asked Apgar.

"On the side of your watch, that stain, it looks like blood."

Apgar looked down at his watch and saw the fresh dollop of blood lining the side of the silver metal wristband of the watch. He quickly brushed the blood away using his right hand before uttering, "Must have splashed on it when I was shot."

"I see," said Bowman. "Well I'm sure you would like to get some rest. We'll come back later."

"Thank you," said Apgar before quickly adding, "Wait, what are you going to do about Sienna?"

"We don't know yet," replied Bowman. "When we learn more about her condition we will be better able to make a decision as to what to do next. In the meantime we have your renegade Centurion to deal with. Just get some rest Doctor."

Bowman, Galit and Keene stepped outside and once again moved out of earshot of Apgar to talk in hushed voices so they couldn't be heard by him.

"Well," said Galit to the two of them. "What's the general consensus?"

"It's an incredible story," said Keene. "A conspiracy to make people think the Cylons were launching an invasion. My Gods! Do you think it's true?"

"What reason would he have to lie to us at this point?" said Bowman subtly hinting that he believed the story to be true.

"Something you want to add to this conversation, 'Ace'?" asked Galit.

"I'm not sure yet," said Bowman. "So what's our game plan?"

"We need to locate that Centurion somehow. I'm having Teuton see if he can replicate that E-band wireless transmission he detected. Maybe we can use it to lure it into a trap."

"That's assuming the transmission we detected had anything to do with the Centurion in the first place," added Keene.

"It's all we got at the moment," said Galit before turning to Keene and adding, "In the meantime I'd like you to work on maintaining the perimeter around the Eurylade. While we are docked here it can't use any of the station's weapons against us so that thing can have the run of the station for all I care as long as it keeps its distance from the ship. At least until we are ready to go hunting anyway."

"Yes, Major," said Keene with a nod before turning around and walking back towards the bridge to carry out her instructions.

"As for you, 'Ace', come with me please!"

Bowman followed Galit through the corridors of the Faststar back to her quarters where she opened her door for him and stood aside to allow the Commander entry. Once inside she closed the door behind them thus sealing them off from the rest of the crew. He stood with his back to her pretending to admire some imaginary spot on the grey wall opposite. In fact his mind was replaying Apgar's story over and over and then comparing it to the one he knew.

She walked up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder once more. At the touch of her fingers he seemed to cringe as if her skin were poison. He carefully removed her hand, letting it fall gently back down to her side.

"What?" she asked confused at his rejection of her friendship.

"I just don't like you touching me like that," he said as politely as he could.

"Why not?" she asked momentarily chuckling before she realized why he had reacted this way. "Oh, I see. I'm doing it again aren't I? I'm reminding you of her. I seem to recall we had a similar incident six years ago."

"It's not personal, Galit. You know that don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said grinning cheekily. "But you obviously overestimate yourself. Believe it or not I can keep my hands off you and I'm not about to rape you in the privacy of my own quarters."

Bowman felt a little foolish. He was never good at reading women and even now at thirty-nine years old they were still a mystery to him at the best of times but with Galit Malka, a woman used to hiding things, it was twice as confusing. Deep down he knew his own feelings added to the confusion. Maybe he was reading his emotions for her and not the other way around. He just didn't know but either way he was beating himself up inside. It would have been easier for him and indeed all the survivors of the holocaust aboard Hermes, if they had somewhere they could go to remember their loved ones like a grave or a shrine. Instead they were denied such a luxury. It was simply a case of them suddenly being told that they can never see their families again. They weren't offered closure, something every human being who suffers loss needs as desperately as air.

"I'm sorry," he uttered to her as she sat down on her chair that she had pulled out from under the desk that occupied the left wall of the rather cramped room. "My mind has been all over the place."

"Sit down!" she told him indicating to her bunk. Seeing no reason not to, Bowman walked over to her bunk and sat on the edge before leaning forwards and rubbing his face as if he were subconsciously cleansing it. "Can I take a shot in the dark for a moment?"

Bowman laughed. "Are you going all psychologist on me now? I don't need a shrink."

"Well, while I disagree with that I will say that you do need to talk to someone. You don't need to have a doctorate in psychiatry to know you're all bent up inside about something. I could see it in your eyes from the moment I saw you in here a few days ago. You need to unload desperately. You forget that although we only knew each other for a short time six years ago I learned exactly who you are, Artimus. We did have something back then, didn't we?"

"I guess so," he confessed avoiding eye contact with her.

"So with that in mind, coming back to my shot, ever since the colonies were bombed who is it you turn to so you can be Artimus again and not Commander Bowman, hmm? Is there anyone on Hermes you can turn to?"

"I guess not," replied Bowman after really pondering her question.

"So in that case take this opportunity that I'm giving you. Tell me just what it is that's killing you inside? Let me take some of the load for you even if it's just for a few minutes." Bowman remained silent as he listened to her. She knew she was getting through to him and that she had to keep going to get his defences to finally crumble. "Tell me!"

"Thirty-six hours," he mumbled.

"What?"

"We knew the invasion was going to happen thirty-six hours before it actually did. We had time to warn the fleet but our entire network had shut down. We couldn't jump and we couldn't launch anymore Raptors to jump back to the fleet. It was our…_my_ duty to some way to let them know what was going on and I failed! We got back to Picon just in time to see the start of the bombing. The fleet was all but gone."

Bowman buried his face shamefully into his hands.

"So," she said. "Commander Bowman is human after all. I have never in my life met anyone so determined to destroy himself on the inside as you, Artimus. You've built up this exterior that you want everyone else to see; Commander, Raptor pilot, boxer but the truth is on the inside you're as weak and as helpless as the rest of us."

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me?" he said looking up at her as he listened.

"I am trying to help you. I'm trying to make you see that there are things in this universe that you will have no control over no matter who the frak you are. That's the domain of the Gods and they spared you for a purpose."

"What purpose is that exactly?" he asked somberly. "To sit on your bunk and talk about my feelings with you like a couple of high school girls at a slumber party?"

"Your purpose is to make sure those three thousand people crammed onto that ship you love so much survive this hell and by doing so ensure that our civilization survives. I don't give a frak if you believe in the Gods or not but they believe in you and that's why you've been given this burden. You've been preparing for it your whole life. It's like when you were training for the Abry Academy Boxing championship well this is it! This is the big fight! All fighters need someone in their corner well that's me. I'm not trying to replace Brooke and I never will but I am your friend and I give you my word that I'll be here for you every step of the way. Sometimes you won't even know it."

"What does that mean?" he asked feeling it was a somewhat cryptic sentence.

Galit knew that she had slipped up. She was of course referring to her involvement in eliminating Armand Lee and his gang, former members of the Basileus Crime Syndicate, who had survived the destruction of the colonies and were living aboard Hermes in 'The Slum'. She knew that he wouldn't take too kindly to finding out about the operation in which she deceived members of his crew and murdered Lee and his supporters so she decided to keep quiet about it for now.

"Nothing specific," she replied using her game face that could deceive even the most gifted of card players. It worked and Bowman seemed convinced that there was nothing more to it. Looking at him she could see already that just by airing what he was feeling he was already better for the experience. She had given him his moment that he needed and therefore she felt it was time to get back to business. "So, coming back to the topic at hand, Apgar; you believe his story that the Colonial Fleet and the MoI were planning to fake a Cylon Invasion?"

"It just triggered something in the back of my mind that's all. A few months after I took command of Hermes me and Brooke spent my shore leave with Scott and Emily Tolan."

"Ah, the famous Rear-Admiral!" said Galit with glee ringing in her voice.

"Yes, well, while I was there Scott told me about a document that had been sent his way from an anonymous source. It was an after-incident report regarding my old ship, the Battlestar Valkyrie."

Galit chuckled momentarily. "It seems we always keep coming back to that ship don't we? What was in the report?"

"It was regarding the loss of one of its pilots, a new guy who transferred in after I had left, I forget his name now but his callsign was 'Bulldog'. The report claimed that this pilot had been shot down on operations against an illegal Tauron mining ring who were operating near the Armistice Line. It seems the miners accidentally stumbled upon 'Bulldog' flying a stealth recon ship and shot him down."

"Seems like all pretty standard stuff to me," said Galit. "That's why it stinks of B.S. Whenever I forge a report to hide something I always make it more interesting than just another story that tries to fade into the background. The best place to hide something is in plain sight. So what caught Tolan onto the fact it was bogus?"

"Whoever had sent the report had highlighted a few sections of it in different colours, some with red and some with blue. The part about Tauron miners was highlighted red which made Tolan suspect that whoever sent him the report wanted him to know it was crap."

"Simple but effective," said Galit.

"I tried contacting Commander Adama about it on the Galactica but all he would say is he couldn't help me with that. That was just the start of it however. Tolan gathered some more evidence of unusual shipping near the Armistice Line, freighters belonging to companies that only existed on paper and didn't seem to be delivering anything to anywhere."

"How do you know it wasn't some kind of intelligence gathering operation?"

"That's what I thought at first but even to me it just didn't seem to fit somehow. There was just something different about all this. Tolan tried to investigate it as best he could but he kept hitting dead ends. I even tried speaking to a few of my old pilots who were still on Valkyrie at the time 'Bulldog' was shot down, nothing."

"Ok," said Galit. "So what has any of this got to do with Apgar's story?"

"Well I was just pondering something," explained Bowman. "What if that pilot getting shot down and the mystery freighters along the border were all part of an effort to provoke a response from the Cylons? What if Corman and his people hoped to stir up trouble and then take advantage of it to seize power? He has always been something of an opportunist. Then when that failed he turned to the MoI for help and that's when he found out about Division 731 and their Centurions."

"Impressive, 'Ace'," she chortled. "I stand by my opinion that you would have made a fine officer in the MoI."

He looked at her, confused by her almost entertained response to what he was hypothesizing. "Did you know anything about this?"

"Me? Careful there, 'Ace', paranoia doesn't suit you. Why would you think I was involved?"

"You want evidence?" he asked not really expecting an answer. "Fine! We're sitting in it. This ship is a Colonial Faststar designed for fast attack missions on Cylon warships. Under the Articles of Colonization the Ministry of Intelligence aren't permitted to possess such vessels so that begs the question where did the MoI get it from?"

"A sound theory," she surmised. "However I must disappoint you and tell you that I had no knowledge of any plan to overthrow the government or start a war with the Cylons. I think that while my bosses knew I was loyal to the MoI they also knew I was loyal to the people of the colonies. If I had found out about any such plan I would have done my very best to stop it and I can assure you I would have succeeded.

"No doubt," said Bowman.

"So," she said, "let's assume for a minute that your theory is correct. Do you then believe that the holocaust was a result of actions carried out by elements within our respective organizations?"

"Part of me does," he replied. "Another part of me thinks that this would have happened anyway. Who knows what really goes on inside the Cylon consciousness? We never did learn why the Cylons agreed to an armistice forty years ago when they had no logical reason to do so, not that we could see anyway. Maybe they decided to change tactics?"

"Or maybe they wanted time to evolve into those human versions you were telling me about?"

"It's possible," he uttered before exhaling into a faint chuckle. "Cylons _evolving_ - never thought I'd say that."

"Well if you believe everything in Gallivan's book then wouldn't it be the natural order of things? A sentient race strives to improve itself."

"I wonder what else they've got in store for us?" said Bowman rhetorically.

Their conversation was interrupted by the buzzing of the intercom handset on the wall near the entrance to Galit's quarters. Galit stood up, walked casually over to it and lifted it up.

"Malka!" she announced holding it to her right ear. The voice on the other end was rushed and near panic stricken.

"Teuton here, Major. I've detected that E-band transmission again."

"Have you localized it?" she asked.

"Yes, Major, it's coming from inside the ship."

"You mean the Eurylade?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm not sure where exactly but it's definitely from inside our ship."

"Inform Captain Barron immediately and have him prepare for combat. I'll be in touch." She hung up the handset and turned to Bowman who was now on his feet anxious to hear what she had to say. "Teuton has detected another transmission and this time it's coming from inside the Eurylade."

"Apgar!" said Bowman. "He must be controlling the Centurion somehow. He can't know we've detected his transmissions."

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Sickbay**

Artimus Bowman and Galit Malka charged into the sickbay to find Apgar playing with his watch and thus being caught off guard by their sudden arrival. Sitting in Bowman's right hand was his sidearm, his finger resting on the trigger guard and the safety catch firmly off.

"Where is it?" asked Bowman firmly.

"Where's what?" asked Apgar.

"Don't frak around with us, Apgar! We detected your wireless transmission that controls it. We detected the same transmission before each appearance of the Centurion. Now, where is your transmitter?"

"The watch," said Galit noticing that a thin line of blood was now was now trickling down his left wrist from where the silver band rested on his skin.

"Take it off!" demanded Bowman.

"This is crazy!" protested Apgar.

"Take it off!" screamed Bowman raising his gun squarely at Dr Simon Apgar's head.

"I would do as he says if I were you," added Galit.

Reluctantly, Apgar began to unhook the silver band around his wrist and as it came loose more blood oozed down his dark skin. Galit reached for the watch and yanked it off his hand to examine it. Positioned on the inside of it were two small wires that were clearly designed to penetrate the skin since they were covered in his blood.

Apgar covered over the subsequent wound with his hand while he watched nervously as Galit showed it to a rather confused Bowman. Had another Cylon been present other than an Apgar they would have seen the two prongs and immediately knew what they were for. Like all Cylons, Apgar could hardwire himself into a computer to gain access to its systems. The watch itself was in fact a very sophisticated wireless transmitter Apgar had constructed himself in order for him to control one of Division 731's Centurions he had modified.

"Is this how you are controlling it?" asked Bowman before snatching the watch from Galit and holding it close to Apgar's face in one hand and a gun in the other.

"Yes," said Apgar swallowing nervously at the sight of the gun so close to his head.

"You instructed the Centurion to kill those people we found in the Viper workshop?"

Apgar didn't answer immediately. Bowman now buried the end of the gun barrel into Apgar's forehead to coax out an answer. "Yes."

Galit watched as Bowman conducted what in her mind was an excellent interrogation worthy of the Ministry of Intelligence. In truth she was proud of him for it. The naivety she once saw in him was now gone. The lines between good and evil that he used to think were so black and white had faded to a rather indistinct shade of grey but even she was surprised at what he asked next.

"Are you a Cylon?" he asked gritting his teeth.

Both Apgar and Galit were stunned at the question but for diametrically different reasons. Apgar looked into Bowman's near-deranged eyes as they stared into his. He knew it was no longer any use to maintain the pretence.

"You can't kill me," said Apgar.

Furious with the response, Bowman threw the watch that concealed the transmitter back to Galit who only just managed to catch it, her attention being so heavily fixed on the scene unfolding before her. With his left hand now free Bowman grabbed Apgar by the collar and dragged him off the bunk and onto the floor. He had his hand on a living Cylon, one that he could hurt with his bare hands and that personified all he had lost in the past month and a half. No amount of control was going to hold him back at this moment. He was once more a slave to his emotions but whereas before he hated himself for it now he relished the experience. He wanted to lash out. His confession to Galit had opened the door for this and he had no intention of letting it go.

Standing over Apgar he lifted the Cylon up off the floor by his collar and with the butt of his sidearm he beat down on his face breaking his nose down the middle. Blood sprouted from the wound and landed on Bowman's hands. The sight of a 'machine' bleeding enraged him even further as his eyes bulged with madness. Bowman beat him again and again until the Simon model Cylon began to cough from blood that he had unintentionally swallowed.

"You…" stuttered the badly injured Cylon. "You can't…kill me." Bowman continued to hold him up by his collar as he stopped his vicious and evil attack. Suddenly the rage drained away momentarily as he looked upwards and in his mind's eye he saw Brooke crying on the promenade once more as she had done almost eight years earlier. He knew what his subconscious was trying to tell him. If she were here she would be horrified by what he was doing. His train of thought was once again interrupted by the stuttering, blood soaked words of the Simon who called himself Apgar. "I can't die. If you kill me my consciousness will download into a new body. I will just wake up somewhere else."

"No!" barked Bowman thrusting the barrel of the gun back into his face once more. "No, that's bullshit. You've been here for almost three months. If that were true why haven't you just killed yourself and come back here with your Cylon buddies to blow this place away?"

Apgar didn't answer. He just stared back at Bowman with worried eyes. Bowman interpreted this human gesture as Apgar being afraid to die. It was Galit who saw through it however. She sensed that Apgar was telling the truth and she believed she knew why.

"The girl!" she interjected, something that caused Apgar's eyes to suddenly move from Bowman's gun to the MoI Major standing in the background. "That's why you haven't killed yourself yet so you can escape this place. I'm guessing you want to keep her alive for whatever reason and that your Cylon buddies wouldn't take too kindly to that. Am I right?"

"Answer her!" growled Bowman after Apgar once again fell silent. "What's so important about that girl?"

"You-You wouldn't understand," said Apgar struggling with the pain.

"Try us!"

"Alright, alright, I love her," said Apgar before repeating loudly, "I love her!"

"You're a frakking machine!" barked Bowman disgusted by the Cylon's use of the word 'love', an emotion he held extremely dear. "Machine's don't love! You run programs. Tell us the truth or I swear to the Gods I will drag your frakking ass down to that sickbay and make you watch as I pull the plugs myself."

Even Bowman was disgusted by his own words. This was not the person he wanted to be but he knew deep down it was part of who he was and it was clear to everyone. The image in his mind of Brooke was fading and the last obstacle to his near psychotic rage was slipping away. He was capable of anything.

"Wait!" said Galit stopping Bowman from doing anything further. With Bowman holding on to the last bit of restraint he had he waited as Galit asked, "What was your plan?"

"I had to get Sienna off the station somehow," he explained, his head in searing pain from the injuries inflicted by Bowman. "She was injured in an accident and the other members of the team I had infiltrated were going to just let her die. I had to stop them so I reprogrammed one of the Centurions to obey only my commands and I had it kill the other members of the team. I knew that if they saw what I was doing to keep her alive that they would suspect I wasn't who I claimed to be. When you arrived I saw my opportunity to escape back to the colonies and try to find the necessary medical equipment I needed to save her."

"What have you instructed the Centurion to do?" asked Galit.

"The last message I sent to it before you came in and stopped me was…"

Bowman shook his prisoner to make him talk. "What?"

"To take the ship. Its instructions are to kill all of you and secure the ship for me to escape with Sienna. It's coming right now."

* * *

**SS-217**

Through the darkened corridors of the station that lacked main power the metal footsteps rang out. One after the other in quick succession they charged forwards carrying the Centurion with it's blue visual sensor searching for targets on its way to its primary objective programmed into it by the Simon model Cylon; kill the crew of the Faststar Eurylade.


	17. Chapter 17

**Faststar Eurylade  
Medical Bay**

"Instruct it to stop!" barked Bowman still holding his prisoner in his left hand with a gun that seemed to be burying itself deeper into Apgar's skull held firmly in his right. Galit stood in the back of the room speaking to Keene Barron on the telephone handset organizing her people's defense against the impending attack by the Centurion

"Why should I?" asked Apgar through blood stained teeth.

Bowman stared deeply into his enemy's eyes. Apgar stared back. "Because if you don't I will kill you here and now. I know you will download into a new body but I swear if it's the last thing I ever do I will kill that girl you care so much about."

Galit stepped forward having finished speaking with Keene and readying her people for combat. She looked down at the scene taking place and continued to watch with interest.

"You'd kill an innocent?" asked Apgar daring Bowman to carry out his threat while trying to feign indifference and failing. He did care. He cared a great deal about Sienna.

"Billions of innocent people have died," snarled Bowman. "What's one more?"

"I don't believe you. No…_Commander_, I can see it in your eyes. You know what love is don't you? You wouldn't do it because if you did it would kill a piece of you."

Bowman tugged his grip on Apgar's collar. "Don't you dare use that frakking word! You have no right!"

"I have every right!" snapped Apgar, blood spitting from his mouth where the blood from his injuries had seeped inside. "Humans think they hold the monopoly on love but you don't have a frakking clue! We know what it is. We know how to appreciate it."

"I warned you!" barked Bowman increasing the pressure on his trigger finger.

"Wait Bowman!" said Galit fearing this was getting out of control. She knew that if Bowman killed Apgar then they would have no chance of stopping the Centurion without going into combat and that would be a risk. Weighing up the odds she knew that they're greatest chance of completing their mission would be to avoid a fight altogether.

Bowman did as she said. Her voice had broken his near frenzied fixation with finding an excuse to pull the trigger and kill his enemy. Apgar's gaze now turned away from Bowman and up at Galit who leaned over him, his look asking her why she had interrupted Bowman from pulling the trigger.

She looked down at him on the floor with Bowman holding off from shooting him but refusing to let go of his prisoner altogether.

"Let's make a deal," she said to the Simon-model Cylon.

"A deal?" asked Apgar with a look of confusion and mistrust.

"You know that in order to save her you can't stay here," she started. "You also know that if you download back to your people you may not make it because of the cloud that surrounds this place and even if you do there's no guarantee they will accept you falling in love with the enemy."

"Galit," said Bowman. "What are you getting at?"

"What I'm doing is wondering just how strong this Cylon's love is for that girl in sickbay. If Cylons do know love better than humans do then I'm willing to bet that they know about the sacrifice that comes with it."

"Sacrifice?" asked Apgar.

Galit leaned in closer to him. "If you call off your Centurion I give you my word that we will take you and that girl with us when we leave this station and that we will do everything we can to make sure she recovers. The sacrifice is that you can never return to your people. You'd be one of us."

Both Bowman and Galit waited for the answer from Apgar. A few long seconds ticked passed as he pondered his position. Bowman was silently hoping that Apgar would say no and thus give him an excuse to finally pull the trigger but he knew what was at stake. Fighting that Centurion would cost them in blood.

"How do I know you will keep your word?" asked Apgar. "How do I know that once I call it off you'll just kill me and then Sienna?"

"All I can give you is my word," she said to him. "But it's not in our best interests to kill you straight away. This is an excellent opportunity for us to learn more about your kind. You'd be an excellent intelligence asset to us. It's certainly a gamble on your part but if I was holding that hand I'd fold my cards and accept it because if you refuse my offer the Commander here is going to blow you away and then find that girl and put a bullet in her brain as well. You can count on that because if he doesn't do it and more of my people get killed by that Centurion then I will make sure that she dies as well."

"You kill your own," uttered Apgar with a tone of disgust at the concept.

"We certainly do," said Galit.

Apgar paused for a moment to think.

"Alright. I-I'll need the watch back," stuttered Apgar.

Galit picked up the watch from off the floor, it having been dropped by Bowman in the frenzy of dragging Apgar from the bed. She tapped her right hand on Bowman's shoulder signaling to him that it was time to release the Cylon. In a burst of frustrated and angry energy Bowman released his grip and stood away but keeping his gun by his side in case this was part of a rouse by the Cylon. He wasn't about to give up on the opportunity to fire.

Galit threw the watch into Apgar's lap. He quickly placed it onto his wrist and clipped it together. His eyes winced as the pain of the two prongs penetrating his skin once more and linking up to the electrical signals in his body. He closed his eyes as the small device began communicating with his central nervous system allowing his brain to send commands to the Centurion via the transmitter inside the watch.

His eyes suddenly shot open.

"It's done," said Apgar.

"Good," said Galit. "Now where is it?"

"I've instructed it to return to its storage point along with the thousands of others so you'll never find it."

"What?" said Bowman.

"Insurance!" snapped Apgar.

Bowman was about to dive in once more but he was cut off by Galit.

"That's fair enough," she said which was enough to bring Bowman to a halt. "Trust is a two way system after all." She walked up to Apgar and offered him her hand. He looked at it, pondering its significance before accepting it and she helped him up off the floor. He sat on the side of the bed before noticing that in all the commotion the wound in his leg from the Centurion's bullets had reopened. "That's going to need some more attention."

"I can take care of it," said Apgar. "I'm going to need that first aid kit though."

Galit handed him the kit that sat on the counter opposite the bed where Apgar was now trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. Galit and Bowman watched as Apgar went to work on his wound. He clearly knew what he was doing, his movements being very confident as he stitched his wound back together.

"Is there anything else you need?" asked Galit.

"Sienna," he replied. "I'd like to see her."

"I'm sure that could be arranged," she said. Bowman just remained silent.

* * *

**SS-217 Medical Bay  
35 Minutes Later**

Apgar stumbled up towards the woman lying on the bed; her brain hooked up to one of Division 731's Centurions which stood motionless beside her. Resting under his right arm was a crutch which he was using to take the pressure off his wounded right leg. Bowman and Galit followed behind him watching with intense curiosity as Apgar leaned down and kissed the sleeping woman before them. It was a warm and tender kiss. Apgar's face winced from both the pain and the joy at the touch of her skin against his lips.

"She used to love sleeping in," he said smiling sweetly.

Galit walked up beside the Cylon and looked at the woman properly for the first time. Galit could see she was beautiful and so could Bowman who stood just behind Apgar still waiting for him to make a move to try and kill them and escape aboard the Eurylade.

The truth was it would be a long time before he trusted Apgar. He didn't see a man in love looking down at his beloved. Instead he saw a machine simulating the emotions of a human being in pain. That was a disgusting thought to Bowman. The one thing he truly cherished was his love for his wife, Brooke, and to see the Cylons claiming to have the same feelings as those he had for his wife made him feel sick with fury.

"Were you programmed to feel this way?" he asked Apgar.

"We don't know," replied the Cylon. "We honestly do not know where these feelings come from or whether they were intentional or not. All we know is they're there. Do you have any idea what it's like for a Cylon to experience love?"

"I know what it's like for a _man_ to experience love."

"Yeah? Well for a Cylon it's like a drug. It consumes our every being. I have turned my back on my entire people for her and I'm not just talking about our little deal. You were right. I should have killed myself and download into another body. The cloud and the distance would have made it difficult but not impossible but I knew that if I did then I would lose my last chance to save her."

"What's the Centurion doing?" asked Galit examining the series of wires that protruded from the young woman's skull upto the Division 731 Centurion's chest.

"The damage is to her brain," explained Apgar. "It's not functioning on its own as a result of the accident. The Centurion is using its CPU to regulate her brain functions. Without it she will die. I could repair the damage if I had the proper tools but here things are too rudimentary. This was all I could do."

"I had no idea Cylons could be so capable in terms of medical know-how," said Bowman. "Doesn't seem like a necessity somehow. If your body is injured then just dispose of it and download into a new one."

"It's not quite like that, not even for a Cylon," explained Apgar. "Yes, there are times when just downloading into a new body is a necessity but it's a painful process. It's hardly preferable."

"Seems like your programmers overlooked something," said Bowman.

"Or they wanted us to cherish life."

"Cherish life?" gasped Bowman in bitter disbelief at the words he was hearing. "You murdered billions! How is that cherishing life?"

"Humanity was a threat to our existence," protested Apgar wincing as his wounded leg began to throb with the pain of having stood still for so long. "We knew that it was only a matter of time before you attacked us again."

"We can never know that," said Bowman.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said Galit to Apgar and Bowman's joint surprise. "Think about it for a minute. If Admiral Corman and the MoI were planning to overthrow the government then war with the Cylons would have been next. Corman always feared them and it was Adar's winding down of the fleet that probably convinced him to try and start a coup in the first place."

"She's right," said Apgar. "You know it too." Bowman didn't want to admit it but Apgar was right. "Let me ask you this Commander; if you knew that the Cylon fleet was going to launch an attack on the colonies and you had the opportunity to destroy them first would you not take it?"

"I suppose you're right," he confessed no matter how much he disliked it. It was the first time he was made to think from a Cylon perspective.

"So," said Galit choosing to end this particular conversation. "I suppose our next step is to get her aboard the Eurylade. Can she be moved safely?"

"I'll have to make a few modifications to the set-up but yes, she can be moved," said Apgar.

"Then you had better get to work…Doctor. I'm going to assign two men to watch you. _Insurance_, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," said Apgar. "I'll start making the modifications."

Galit looked at Bowman and signaled for him to follow her. The two of them walked back towards the hatch leaving Apgar guarded by two of Eurylade's crew as he went about preparing Sienna to be moved to the Eurylade.

"Are you buying this?" she asked him as they walked back towards the Faststar.

"You know what I think," he replied.

"Yes I do," she said grinning. "But what do you think about this whole Cylon love story thing? I'm not talking about whether or not you believe they feel love. I'm talking about whether _they_ believe they can feel love because if that's the case then that is something we can use."

"I wonder if she knows what he is?" he asked referring to Sienna.

"I bet it would be a big frakking shock to anyone to find out their lover is actually a machine." She held her hand out stopping him in his tracks. "I wonder; do you think that maybe she did find out? Perhaps that's why she's in a coma. Maybe it was something Apgar did to her to prevent her from telling the others."

"Or maybe she succeeded and that's why they're all dead. He killed them to hide his secret and put her into a coma because he knew she couldn't accept what he was."

"It seems a bit counter productive doesn't it?" she said disbelievingly. "Putting her in a coma to keep her I mean."

"Love does strange things to people. Maybe it does to Cylons as well. Perhaps the thought of losing her was too painful and he settled for having her this way rather than not at all."

"Oh! So you're starting to believe that Cylons feel love?"

"No, I'm subscribing to your theory that they are programmed to believe they do. Either way I don't trust that man…that _toaster_ for a second. He has already killed people to get what he wants including one of your crew. Once we have completed this mission I recommend terminating it."

"Not so fast there, 'Ace'," she said. "Like I said this is an excellent opportunity to gather intelligence on our enemy; try to get inside their heads, or CPU if you'd rather. The better we understand our enemy the better we can fight them."

"I guess I'll leave the interrogation up to you."

"A wise decision," she said smirking at the corner of her lips. "But rest assured 'Ace' when I'm done with it I'll hand it over to you to finish the task. Think of it as a present. In the meantime I recommend we get started on stripping the station for weapons that can be taken back to Hermes. We'll fill every corridor of the Eurylade if we have to. We may never get another opportunity like this again."

"We should also begin moving the airworthy Vipers out of the tubes and scab them onto the Eurylade's hull. It's going to increase her mass so I'll get Chief Imlay to double check the Eurylade's borrowed FTL to make sure that it can cope."

"We may want to go over the station's own FTL first to make sure this thing really can jump back to the colonies. We'll need a full diagnostic of the ship's defensive systems that we're going to keep onboard to light a fire under the toaster's shiny ass."

"It's going to be a lot of work," said Bowman. "I estimate at least twenty four hours but that's a ball park figure. It's been a long time since my Academy engineering classes."

"Well then let's get started shall we?" she said as she carried on walking back to the Eurylade leaving Bowman to watch her.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

**Lt. Nester Adrastos  
The Monotheist Camp, Virgon  
Twelfth Day in Captivity **

Nester's eyes fought to focus as he slipped in and out of consciousness once again. He had awoken to a blurry ceiling so many times now that his sense of the passage of time had become as confused as his vision. A warm hand placed onto his forehead welcomed him back, guiding him into consciousness.

"Z-Zoe?" he uttered expecting to find the image of the young woman who had appeared to him before him once more.

The pupils in his eyes closed to their smallest diameter in an effort to filter out the light that was bombarding his vision. Slowly but surely his vision focused and the wooden beams across the ceiling of one of the cabins occupied by the Monotheist survivors became clearer to him. He was back in the camp and upon that realization he remembered being found in the forest by one of the Sharons.

The warm hand returned to his head and he again uttered the name, "Zoe."

"Who is Zoe?" asked a female voice which he was sure he recognized.

His head fell to the left and he saw the still blurry image of Megan Jordan looking down at him. She was sitting beside his bed clearly happy to see him in such a positive condition. She was wrapped up in a red woolen blanket and sat in a chair with her feet resting on the side of the bed he was stretched out upon. It took him a few moments to realize that he was in the cabin she shared with Adrian Doral, her Cylon partner.

Adrian! A thought popped into his head and it wasn't a particularly pleasant one; did she know that Adrian was dead? Nester had watched him die when he was shot during the ambush by the insurgents.

"Well?" asked Megan retracting her hand from his forehead.

"What?" he said groggily.

"Who is Zoe?"

"Zoe? Uh, I-I don't know." His thoughts were still unclear as he replayed his strange encounter with the girl who called herself Zoe. It would have been easy for him to dismiss it off as a dream but his mind refused to accept that. It was too real to him for that. He then remembered seeing her again when he was conscious. She was there when the search party found him. That too was no guarantee she wasn't a figment of his imagination. He reasoned that she could have been a hallucination brought on during his semi-conscious state. Thinking about it seemed to give him a headache.

"You seem to know her," said Megan smiling. "You called her name out a few times while you were sleeping."

"Oh? Probably a dream I was having."

Nester tried to sit up, his body feeling stiff from having been lying down for so long. Despite his arm muscles complaining profusely he managed to lift his back up from the mattress and shuffle himself backwards until he was leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

"Careful!" pleaded Megan who quickly rushed forwards to help prop a pillow up against his back. "There."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some water?" she asked reaching for a jug of water that sat on the floor beside his bed. "There was some ice in it but at some point it just became more water."

"Yes thank you," said Nester who upon the sight of the clear liquid being poured into a small cup realized his throat was quite dry.

"Here!" she said passing him the cup.

He carefully took it from here and momentarily forgetting his manners due to thirst he lifted up and filled his mouth with water without thanking her. His eyes closed as he savored the still cold water filling his mouth before running down his throat. He blanked out all his senses as he just concentrated on the joy that came from having the liquid pour through his body. It seemed such a simple thing and yet it produced an overwhelming feeling of euphoria.

"You look like you needed that?" she said to him.

"I really did," he whispered as his eyes opened once more.

Megan was no longer alone. A girl was now standing behind her as she sat in the chair. The girl had long black hair and wore a blue dress that passed just below her knees at the front but went all the way to her ankles at the back. It was Zoe.

Nester's mouth dropped open in surprise as Zoe held her right index finger to her lips and shushed him to silence.

"Only you can see me," she said to him as she leaned onto the back of Megan's chair, Megan seemingly totally oblivious to her presence like Zoe had said.

"Are you ok?" asked Megan.

"You're fine," added Zoe.

"I'm…_fine_," he repeated both as a question to Zoe and an answer to Megan.

"Well you're going to need some rest," explained Megan. "I said I'd look after you. I didn't think you would like to wake up onboard the Baseship being examined by a bunch Cylons."

Megan blushed slightly as she explained her reasoning for volunteering to look after him.

Zoe looked at Nester and uttered, "I wonder if that's the only reason?"

"Thank you," said Nester who was starting to wonder just who was real and who wasn't anymore.

"Yes," added Zoe. "A very nice thing to do indeed. I'm sure it has nothing to do with what she saw when you were first brought in to the camp. They took your clothes off, remember?"

"I'm, uh, very grateful," stuttered Nester.

"You're welcome," smiled Megan whose cheeks were still a slight shade of red. "Would you like some more water or do you think you could manage something to eat?"

"How about a sponge bath?" quipped Zoe.

"No," said Nester to Zoe before noticing Megan's confused stare. "No thank you, Megan. I think I should just rest a little."

"The blanket," noted Zoe to which Nester's eyebrows lowered to ask 'what'? "The blanket! She's been here a while. Maybe _she's_ hungry?"

"What about you, Megan?" asked Nester.

"What?" she said smiling over the fact that he was seemingly engaging with her.

"Have you had something to eat? You, uh, don't need to keep an eye on me all the time now I'm awake. Would you like to get something to eat?"

"I am a little hungry," she said smiling.

"Then why don't you go and get something to eat and some rest yourself. There's no use you being made ill by looking after me is there?"

"I guess not," she laughed as she saw the logic in his reasoning. "Alright then, well I'll only be in the next room if you need anything ok?"

"Thank you, Megan," said Nester as he watched her get up and walk passed Zoe through the door at the back of the room and into the main room of the small cabin leaving him alone with the manifestation that called itself Zoe. "Alright what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not a dream?" he asked.

"Not unless you're dreaming now," she replied.

"I guess I must be."

"There! You've just proven your not sleeping. You don't know that you're sleeping when you are in fact asleep."

"Alright, let's suppose you are real; what do you want?"

"I told you before. I'm here to help guide you through what's coming," explained the girl.

"And what's that exactly?" he asked keeping his voice low as he heard Megan fumbling around in the kitchen. He didn't want her to think he was crazy.

Zoe calmly stepped from behind the chair before lowering herself down onto it. Compared to Nester she was so calm and relaxed as though she were in complete control of everything that was going on around her. He noted that she seemed to lack any concept of risk which only served to reinforce his suspicion of her and her intentions.

"Let's stay in the here and now for the moment shall we?" she said to him. "There's no need to blow open your head with information just yet."

"Why aren't you telling me everything? You obviously want my help with something so I think you should be fair and tell me everything."

"I am being fair," protested Zoe. "It wouldn't be fair for me to just come out and tell you that you are going to be the leader of the survivors who must fight the good fight against the evil Cylons now would I? Oooops!"

Nester's mouth fell open in shock. _Is that what she's got planned for me? _

Zoe erupted into a burst of laughter. She had been joking and this made Nester feel very foolish.

"You see what happens when you get hit with everything at once?" she said to him.

"Point taken," he uttered with a hint of irritation.

"Now then, can we please get back to business?" Nester nodded and she continued. "You are at a crossroads now. You need to think very clearly about which way you go. You can either fight the Cylons or you can use them."

"Use them? What are you talking about?"

"They need you as much as you need them. They may have set these wheels in motion but the futures of both races are interlinked in a way you can't possibly imagine yet."

"Interlinked?" said Nester, his mouth open in aghast. "How; we going to wipe each other out once and for all or something?"

"May-be," joked Zoe which did not amuse Nester. "Let's talk about Megan for a moment. She's your guide on your journey."

"My guide? Megan?"

"She's not just some little girl, she's a woman and more importantly she is alive. She needs someone to…comfort her. As do we all."

"What does that mean?" asked Nester noting that she was suggesting something in the way she spoke.

"We all need someone to comfort us especially in uncertain times. All you have to do is look at Megan and it's obvious she is desperate to cling on to someone, someone strong like a Marine Lieutenant."

It was clear to him now what she meant.

"You're joking again aren't you?" he asked dryly.

"No I'm serious."

"Her fiancé has only just been killed. I saw him die. Are you telling me that she can just forget about him like that before his-his battery has cooled down?"

"I never said she was going to forget about him and I think you would be a fool if you did as well. She loves the Cylon, Adrian, but deep down she knows there's something not quite right. There's something different-"

"Yeah," interrupted Nester. "He's a frakking machine!"

"One of the greatest the universe has ever seen," said Zoe, "but yes he is still a machine and that fact has been nagging at Megan all this time and when she first saw you she knew why. She's attracted to you and as such she could be a useful asset."

"You make her sound like she's some sort of tool."

"I suppose in some ways she is. She already has the confidence of the Cylons. She is trusted by most of them and that is something you can desperately use in the coming weeks. Keep her close. You can trust her."

"I have a question," said Nester.

"About Megan?"

"About you. How can I know I can trust _you_?"

"What possible purpose could I have to deceive you?" asked Zoe incredulously. "Besides I thought we were passed this whole suspicion thing."

"Well let's just say that your insistence that I cooperate with a Cylon collaborator has reawakened my suspicious nature. Ever since I got here that's all I've had thrown at me is cooperate, cooperate, cooperate. Now I've got some…apparition telling me to do just that."

"Go on!" said Zoe indulging him in his efforts to understand.

"When I woke up on that Baseship after being captured I was in some kind of medical bay. Did the toasters put something in my brain that makes me see you?"

"I'm just in your head is that it? Like a projection of some kind?"

"Yeah."

"Well in that case," said Zoe getting back to her feet. "This wont hurt a bit will it?"

In one quick move she angrily slapped the left side of his face. The high speed impact stung painfully on his skin. He instinctively raised his left hand to cover the area where she had hit him. He was about to hurl a volley of curses at her but when he looked around she was gone. The only indication he had that she had been there at all was the throbbing pain in the left side of his face.

Megan stepped back into the room with two plates each one of which had a small sandwich placed on top of it. She saw Nester nursing the left side of his face as she walked in.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Toothache?"

"Uh," he replied vaguely as he weighed up the likelihood of her believing him if he explained about the girl that was visiting him and that only he could see. "Yeah, a little bit of toothache. It's gone now though."

"Here," she said handing him one of the plates. "It's lettuce and diced carrot. I'd like to put some ham in it for you but meat rations are still quite limited."

"That's ok, thank you."

He took the plate and placed it down on the bed beside him. He reached down to pick up one of the sides of the sandwich when another person entered the room. Nester almost dropped the sandwich when he saw one of the Doral-model Cylons standing in the doorway complete with a goatee and bushy hair, features that distinguished him from the other Dorals.

"Ah Nester," said Adrian Doral. "I'm glad you're looking better. I trust she has been taking good care of you."

Nester didn't reply. Instead he simply stared open mouthed at the sight of the man he had watched die in the forest. He knew that it wasn't simply a replica of the Adrian he had met here in the camp. He somehow knew that this was the same one.

"I don't think he understands," said Megan as Adrian placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Adrian looked at Nester and said, "Cylons don't die. When this body dies we simply download into a new one and wake up somewhere else in an identical body. I've had mine customized this way to separate me from the others. I think there's some value in variety."

It was a horrific sight for Nester to behold for here in front of him was the proof that every Cylon he and the others aboard Hermes had destroyed since the war started not one of them had actually been killed. There were as many of them now as there were at the start.

It was a cruel and bitter pill to swallow.


	18. Chapter 18

**SS-217  
Launch Deck  
16 Hours Later**

Chief Imlay had found it easy to get to grips with the Viper Mark III. It was a good old fashioned design that relied heavily on mechanics as opposed to the Mark VII which was almost all electric. Even the computer systems were basic including its triple back up system so that if the Cylons attempted to hack the primary computer there were physical kill-switch controls in the cockpit that the pilot could hit and sever the hardline to prevent them from gaining access to the whole craft. The pilot could then regain control almost automatically as the secondaries took over. It was a harmonious little ship that was well balanced and as tough as old boots.

The Mark IVs were a little trickier having been built when the war had ended and suddenly sophistication became the order of the day again. Nevertheless the Chief took a moment to step back and gaze at what he and his two-man team had achieved. They had each insured that seventeen Mark IIIs and six Mark IVs were ready to launch. A lot of it was down to the excellent condition in which the Vipers had been maintained over the years. A few of them needed to have parts replaced here and there and as such two Vipers from each group had been selected for cannibalization to bring as many online as possible so they could be taken back to Hermes by piggy-backing on the Eurylade.

There was now only one thing to do.

"Who's gonna fly 'em?" grumbled Tillesley as he wiped his hands clean from grease that had seeped through his ripped gloves.

"Bowman and one or two of the other's from Major Malka's crew I suspect," said Imlay who had been so focused on his work that he had forgotten to ask that very question that was now being pondered by Tillesley.

"I can't believe she's letting that frakking psycho come with us," uttered Tillesley quietly in case any of Galit's crew was in earshot. "He killed all those people and now he's getting a free ride with us? Most of all I can't believe Bowman is going along with it."

"If the Commander thinks there's a reason to keep him alive then I'm sure it's a good one. "

"We should shove him out a frakking air lock! How do you think Gorseinon is going to feel about having him on the same ship as her? You know how spooked she was when she saw those people. And another thing, when I went back to the Eurylade to get some more tools for Viper Seven-Three-One Omega I saw some of Malka's people. They were moving the body of that girl in Sickbay and the Centurion she was hooked up to."

"Where were they moving her too?" asked Imlay whose eyebrows had lowered with interest.

"I didn't see where exactly but they were heading towards the Eurylade and that's not all; Apgar was with them and he seemed very determined to go with her."

"How do you mean?"

"He was holding her hand as they wheeled her by. I just wish I knew what was so important about him? And _her_ for that matter?"

"Maybe he knows how to use the Centurions that were being made here or something, I don't know. The point is this; trust Bowman! He has seen us through this far. He'll take us the rest of the way."

"I guess so," grumbled Tillesley clearly not happy with the answer he was getting from Imlay.

The truth was that only a handful of people aboard Hermes and the Eurylade knew about the Cylon evolution to human form. Even fewer knew that Dr Simon Apgar was one of them. Bowman still preferred to keep this information a secret to avoid panic and Galit Malka agreed. Only Bowman, Galit and Keene Barron knew that Apgar was a Cylon. Everyone else was told that he was the one who was responsible for killing the people they had found in the Viper Launch Deck but that was it.

Specialist Julie Gorseinon was still working on a Viper Mark IV on the opposite end of the Launch Deck as Imlay and Tillesley continued their conversation about Apgar. She sat in the cockpit of the little fighter with her portable diagnostic machine plugged into it. The small device was about the size of a book and was dominated by a large LCD screen which displayed a list of systems that it expected to find installed into the Viper it was attached too. Since it was designed for use on a Viper Mark VII her screen showed that several faults were detected by it when she plugged it into the Mark IV. There was a simple reason for this.

"Of course you're registering faults," she said to herself jokingly. "That's because there aren't any of those systems in this old bird."

She went through the list of fault warnings that flashed on her screen clearing them as she went to make sure that the systems that were installed on the Mark IV were working properly. Having gained some experience on these older Vipers she now began to realize what Chief Imlay meant when he said the Mark VII was unnecessarily complicated.

With the last of the faults cleared and all other systems running perfectly she knew her diagnostic check was completed. She unplugged the sixteen pronged cable lead from its socket under the instrument panel and switched it off before lifting herself out of the cockpit. Julie Gorseinon was not a big person by any stretch of the imagination. She was actually quite petite and so a Viper seemed to swallow her up whenever she climbed into one to do her work. This made climbing out of a Viper look a little more difficult than it should have been.

Placing the diagnostic machine onto the leading edge of the wing she threw her left leg out of the cockpit and placed it onto the yellow and black ladder that was hooked onto the side of the fuselage. She briefly noted that it was a significantly bigger ladder than the ones they used on Hermes but chalked it up to another one of those differences between the older Vipers and the newer ones she had trained on.

It was as she was about to bring her right leg over that she saw them. They were marching in rows of two and in perfect step with one another. Keene Barron walked alongside them as they marched. Twenty three of Division 731's Centurions continued to march passed in pairs with one solitary example bringing up the rear. They marched passed Gorseinon until they arrived in the middle of the Launch Deck.

"Centurions!" bellowed Barron. "Halt!" The Centurions came to a sharp and sudden stop and Keene stopped alongside them before turning to face them. "In-to-line; right turn!" The Centurions turned to the right to face him with such perfect timing that they would have put the best Colonial Fleet drill demonstration team to shame.

The Launch Deck suddenly echoed with twenty three mechanical voices speaking together. "Awaiting-your-instructions!"

"What the hell is this?" asked Imlay storming up to Barron with Tillesley close behind. Unnerved by the sight of the Centurions, Gorseinon decided to stay where she was.

"What does it look like, Chief?" asked Barron dryly. "These are your pilots. They're going to fly these out of the station and hold up alongside while Eurylade departs. Once the station jumps then they will scab themselves onto our ship and make the jump back to Hermes with us."

"I know the plan," protested the Chief. "What I want to know is what are we doing put these things into armed Vipers? They're Cylons!"

"They're not Cylons," said Barron. "The correct terminology that was devised by the MoI was that they're Artificial Support and Infantry Drones or ASIDs if you prefer."

"That's semantics! They're Cylons!"

"They're _our _Cylons, Chief, and they're going to help us get these Vipers back to Hermes." Barron could see that Imlay was still not happy about the situation. It was going against all his better judgement to give these things weapons while they were still aboard. Barron decided to sum it up for him. "Nobody's asking for your permission, Chief."

Disgruntled, Imlay stood aside and opened his arms in the direction of the Vipers. "Well, there they all are."

"Thank you," said Barron politely. Barron turned to face the assembled ranks of Centurions each one of them standing with their blue tinted visual scanner running from side to side. The scanner was the same as the red one fitted to the original Cylons designed by Dr Daniel Graystone however the blue tint in the ones built by Division 731 was intended to help distinguish them and to make those humans fighting alongside them feel more at ease with their presence. "Centurions! Your instructions are to pilot these Vipers off the station and to maintain a holding pattern at a distance of thirty five miles. There you will wait for further instructions. Confirm receipt of instructions."

"Instructions-confirmed," announced each one of the twenty three Centurions each in time with one another.

"Proceed!" instructed Barron.

The Centurions broke ranks. The front row walked towards the nearest Vipers, their metal feet creating a ting sound as they made contact with the metal deck plates. As he watched them, Chief Imlay noticed that their movements were smoother than the rather clunky old fashioned Cylons of the First Cylon War. In fact, as he continued to watch them he saw a rather striking similarity in them to the new Cylon Centurions.

The forward most Centurions approached the Vipers nearest them and began to climb up the heavy duty ladders. It was clear to them now that these ladders were intended for use by the Centurions. The Centurions that had formed the back row of their assembled numbers moved to the Vipers located the furthest distance away. Gorseinon quickly leapt down from the Viper she had been working on at the sight of one of the metal soldiers approaching and stood aside as it clambered up and into the cockpit.

Within a few minutes each one of the airworthy Vipers was manned by a Centurion each running through cockpit drills to ready their Vipers for flight. With nothing more to do Barron, Imlay, Gorseinon and Tillesley left the Launch Deck sealing the hatches behind them ready for the atmosphere to be purged.

Placed behind the Launch Deck was the launch control room. This was very different to anything Imlay had seen on a Battlestar. Firstly, there was only one room to control every single launch tube as opposed to there being one per tube on a Battlestar. Another unusual feature was that there wasn't a single window looking out at the tubes. In fact if there had been a window it would only look into the workshops behind the tubes. Only a series of cameras displayed on the main screen that dominated the wall above the control panel gave a view of what was happening inside. The multi-screen image displayed different sections of the Launch Deck and their Vipers with a grainy black and white image. Imlay felt this to be a very poor design.

Controlling the individual launch tubes was quite an easy process however. All Imlay had to do was select which tubes he wanted to launch and begin the decompression process. After that everything was fully automatic. To decompress the Launch Deck Imlay had to open a small door in the in the middle of the instrument panel which had a red border around it. There was just enough room for his hand to reach inside and turn a small red wheel through two hundred and seventy degrees. After the wheel had been turned a klaxon sounded twice warning that decompression had begun. It took just two minutes to decompress the whole Launch Deck. It was now devoid of atmosphere.

Selecting which tubes was to launch involved the simple process of flicking down the necessary switch in the mass of rows of similar switches. When the tube was armed a red light was illuminated above the switch. With each of the tubes selected there was little more to do except watch on the screen as one by one the outer doors opened to reveal the red dust cloud that enveloped the station before the Vipers were suddenly hurled forwards.

* * *

Once free of the station the first Vipers piloted by Centurions swooped around into a big ninety degree turn to fly perpendicular to the station to allow their comrades time to form up alongside them. Without needing a command to do so the Centurions flew their vipers in four groups of five in an echelon left formation. The last group, whose number was odd, had to form with just three Vipers in their team.

Once they were formed up the Centurions guided their Vipers away from the station traversing a distance of precisely thirty five miles from the launch tubes that sat along the stem of the mushroom-like space station/battle fortress. Their movements had not gone entirely unnoticed. Still orbiting away from the station were the sentry Vipers that had been left to guard it and its secret. The Centurion pilots scanned the new objects they were detecting with their DRADIS and identified the silhouettes as allied craft. As per their programming they still required confirmation of their friendly intent and therefore sent a signal to them demanding an IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) code.

The recently launched Centurions replied to their comrades with the necessary code and the Sentry Vipers allowed them to continue unchallenged. Once the station/fortress jumped back to the colonies these Sentry Vipers would also be taken back to Hermes to help bolster the Battlestar's air wing.

* * *

**Faststar Eurylade  
Galit Malka's Quarters**

True to her word, Galit had made sure not a single space onboard the Eurylade was left uncluttered by weaponry salvaged from the station. Ammunition boxes lined the corridors making movement by more than one person tricky at best. Most of the boxes taken from the station consisted of small arms and ammunition since this was the easiest to carry.

The larger boxes that housed the bigger ordinance for use by the Hermes' main guns had to be hauled into the Eurylade's small cargo bay using hydraulic lifters on the station. When the cargo bay was full the boxes were broken open and the shells taken individually onto the Eurylade and like the small arms boxes were placed in any available space they could.

It had been physically exhausting work for the twenty crew aboard Eurylade made worse by the fact that at least two of them had to guard Apgar in Sickbay who was with Sienna, the comatose girl they had recovered from the station. Most of the Eurylade's crew were now feeling the strain and their efforts had slowed dramatically. When it was felt that there was simply no more room aboard the Eurylade for additional weapons Galit allowed them all to rest except for Teuton who was given the comparatively relaxing task of programming a datadisk with instructions for the station for when it completed its one and only jump back to the colonies.

The plan was for the station to emerge from its jump between the orbits of Caprica and Gemenon since it was presumed that this would be where the greatest concentration of Cylon forces would be. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the station itself would not last long in a firefight with the Baseships that would no doubt be sent after it especially since it lacked a full compliment of Vipers and the few that were onboard were now being taken back to Hermes.

Once the jump was complete the Centurions would activate and proceed to their landing craft; the four immense coffin shaped objects that were scabbed onto the stem of the station. Each one of these landing craft had the potential to carry upto one hundred thousand Centurions in their compact storage mode. Two of these landing craft were programmed to land on Caprica while the other two would land on Gemenon.

The Centurions would deploy to the north and south of each colony in order to divide the Cylon's ability to respond to the invasion. They would begin scouting missions to evaluate potential targets for attack with priorities being given to fuel and ammunition storage. This was a direct effort to help reduce the Cylon's ability to pursue Hermes even if it only slowed them down for just a few hours; it all helped. Where possible the Centurions would try to acquire these supplies to continue the fight until the last one was finally destroyed by the Cylons.

The purpose of this mission was not to drive the Cylons from the colonies and no one was under any illusions to that end. The main aim of this mission was to tie up the Cylons for as long as possible in order to give Hermes the chance it needed to escape pursuit.

Artimus Bowman didn't know why he was in Galit's quarters. It just seemed the logical place to rest his arms that ached bitterly from the manual labour he and the others had endured bringing the supplies onboard. As he always did he sat on the chair that he had pulled out from behind the desk opposite her bunk. He sat on it with the back resting against his chest as he leaned forwards to dangle his arms to the ground as if they had been stretched by all the weight he had carried.

Galit herself sat on her bunk leaning against the back wall, the upper half of her grey jump suit being tied around her waist to let her sweat covered upper body adorned in a black tank top cool down. She sat looking around at the metal boxes that lined her floor since not even her quarters were spared when it came to finding space for ammunition.

Inevitably her eyes fell upon Artimus Xavier Bowman. She looked at him, absorbing the tired image of him in the chair and burning it into her memory. She found she had been doing this ever since he first stepped into her quarters aboard the Eurylade a few days earlier. No; it had been back even further than that. She could still see the image of him the first time they met on the Battlestar Valkyrie six years earlier. He was emerging from his Raptor as he prepared to take Scott Tolan to Virgon. She remembered that image of him clearer than all others because that was how she chose to remember him.

He was a different man back then being quite angry and bitter about many things. She too had been different being more impulsive and quite happy-go-lucky. In the years since then all that had changed and she didn't know why. Perhaps that was why her memories of him were so fond because it reminded her of an easier time in her life.

If that was the image she would take with her of him then and it would be this image now she wondered what images of him she would see later when the mission was over.

"We haven't talked about what happens next?" she said to him breaking the overwhelming silence in the room. He lifted his eyes up to look at her, an effort that seemed to be as difficult as raising his tired arms at that moment. "We've been so hell-bent on completing this mission that we haven't really talked about what we're going to do next."

"I guess I was hoping for some crazy scheme by the notorious Galit Malka of the Ministry of Intelligence."

"I don't really have anything," she confessed in such a way as to imply that the survival of Eurylade and the Hermes was not what she really wanted to discuss.

"Is that what you really want to talk about?" he asked her gently.

"What else is there these days?" she asked safely before her old daring self suddenly seemed to creep through and she added, "Us? There is no _us_, remember? That was another lifetime ago."

"It was only six years ago," he said through a weary voice.

"Like I said," she uttered. "Another lifetime ago."

"You were the one who disappeared without a trace. You let me believe you were dead, remember?"

"For all intents and purposes I was. My injuries I sustained in the bombing were quite severe. It was a long time before I even regained consciousness and by then you were already back on Caprica and patching things up with Brooke. I wasn't about to come and take that away from you. I knew how you felt about her; how you still feel about her. To you she's not gone is she?"

"No," he said regretfully, letting his head fall downwards as he did so. "It's like one day somebody said to me _you can never see her again_. I know it sounds grotesque but if I could just see a grave or something that would make it more real to me I could understand. I could handle it better."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" she asked him feeling like she was becoming his psychiatrist.

"Just before Hermes left Picon; about two days before the Cylons attacked. I was talking to her on the phone, trying to make up with her. We'd had a fight the last day I was on Caprica. She was planning to start another strike at the school where she worked and I tried to tell her that if the teachers kept it up they were only going to force the hand of the Police. It was going to get bloody. I didn't want her anywhere near it all; I just couldn't bare the thought of her getting hurt. She wouldn't listen to me though."

"Do you think that you will ever accept that she's gone?"

"The truth of the matter is," he started before looking up into her eyes as they waited for an answer from him. "I don't want to accept that she's gone. Some days I think it's the pain of losing her that's keeping me going. If I let go of that then I let go of everything."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted as the intercom handset buzzed loudly. Nevertheless their eyes continued to hold on one another both silently speaking thousands of words to one another that all summed up one fact; they both still had feelings for the other but until he could let go of Brooke and accept she was gone forever there was never any chance of the two of them rekindling that spark they once had.

As the intercom buzzed for a forth time they could no longer ignore it and Bowman, being closest, reached behind his shoulder and plucked it off the wall.

"Bowman!" he said into the mouth piece as he held it to the left side of his head. "Okay, have everyone fall back to the Eurylade and prepare for departure." He hung up the handset back onto its cradle before prying himself out of his seat. "Everything is ready. The station, or mobile fortress if you will, is ready to make its jump. All that's left to do is input Teuton's mission profile into the main computer core."

"That system was designed to have no remote access," explained Galit. "It was in case the Cylons ever tried to wirelessly gain control over the station. Someone is going to have to physically input the disc into the computer core. I'll do it. You take command of the Eurylade until I get back."

"No," he said. "The Eurylade is your ship. Your place is on her bridge. I'll do it."

"You pulling rank on me?" she asked smiling.

"I'll take my chances," he replied jokingly.

"Alright then…_sir_."

* * *

**SS-217  
Computer Core located near the FTL Drive**

Artimus Bowman had served on some big ships in his time but as he looked out at the jump coils that sat on either side of the main computer core he was in awe at their sheer size. Each one had a diameter equivalent to one of Hermes Hangar Pods. From the walkway that was sandwiched between the two coils that each sat inside a sea shell-like cover, Bowman looked out at them through the visor of his Extra Vehicular Activity (EVA) space suit at the vacuum filled chasm admiring the sheer effort that must have gone into the construction of the station. The computer core was deliberately positioned between the two coils to afford it the maximum available protection from enemy fire. The downside was that there simply weren't any environmental devices that were big enough to generate an atmosphere in the immense space so if anyone needed to access to the computer core they had to wear the EVA suit. Fortunately the gravity net installed on the station could cover this area as well.

Positioned around the circumference of the FTL drive were numerous doors each one measuring twenty meters long and ten meters wide. These doors were designed to open when the station was ready to make its jump to expel the damaging excess spatial distortion that would accumulate during the build up of power. On ships up to the size of a Battlestar these are not necessary since the spatial distortion can be broken up using a series of devices called coil breakers which breaks up the wave generated by the ship punching through space and time. The bigger the ship however the more times this effect is multiplied until such devices are unable to compensate and so these doors have to be used.

Keene Barron accompanied Bowman as he made the walk out to the chamber where the computer core was located. Galit had insisted that Barron accompany him and Bowman saw no reason to object. Upon reaching the chamber they saw that the entrance was protected from the energy build up that would take place when the ship jumped by a thick titanium based composite hatch with a round handle on the front.

Bowman placed both hands around the handle and tried to move it but it wouldn't budge. Barron stood alongside him and placed his hands on it as well.

"One…Two…Three," counted Bowman, their voices transmitted to one another by a short range wireless. At the end of the counting the two of them threw all their strength into turning the handle. It budged a few inches at first before it finally broke free and traversed its complete rotation in one swift move.

"You see," said Barron gleefully. "I knew I could be helpful."

"Alright then," said Bowman looking inside the chamber at the computer core. The chamber itself, by comparison to where it was located, was only a few meters wide on either side. The walls were covered in beige metal boxes each one housing high speed computers that either carried out a specific function or was acting as a back up to another computer. They were identifiable only by a small number placed on each box around the room. Immediately opposite the hatch was the Master Access Panel, a single screen with a control panel that could allow an operator to gain access to every system on the station. It was in effect a one man bridge or CIC since nearly all of the functions carried out on the station were either automatic or were carried out by Centurions.

There were several slots in each computer box intended for datadiscs to be inserted in order to upload new information.

"Which one is it?" asked Bowman.

"Seventeen," said Barron recalling what Galit had told him before he left the Eurylade.

Bowman counted the boxes as he searched for the one with '17' emblazoned upon it. "There it is!" he said pointing at one of the computer boxes in the left hand corner that looked just like all the others except for the number. Bowman and Keene walked up to the computer box numbered seventeen.

"So just put it in the slot?" asked Bowman confirming what Galit had told him to do. "No passcodes or anything like that?"

"There's no need," explained Barron. "When you enter the disk into the slot the scanner checks for the right access code imprinted onto the disk. If it doesn't detect the right code then it automatically ejects it before any data is transferred."

"Seems simple enough."

"Think so?" said Barron incredulously. "Teuton told me that the code consists of over three thousand randomly generated numbers."

Bowman unzipped the utility pocket in the chest piece of his EVA suit before reaching in to retrieve the green hexagonal disk. He carefully placed it at the entrance to the slot before pushing it inside. The rollers took hold of the disk and dragged it from Bowman's fingers. A red light blinked on and off for several seconds indicating that it was examining the disk for the correct access code. Once it detected the code a green light flashed on and the download of instructions began.

"That's it?" asked Bowman.

"Yep," replied Barron. "Teuton programmed it with a delay of one hour so that we had enough time to get back to the Eurylade and get off this place. The coils will start spooling straight away; because of their size it will take that long build up enough energy to make the single jump back to the colonies."

"Something that took Hermes seventeen jumps to complete!"

Bowman reached over with his right hand to access the wireless controls on his left arm just above the wrist. He pushed the transmit button to extend the range of his transmission back to the Eurylade; it was automatically set so that he could talk to Barron who was only a few meters away from him without having to do this.

"Eurylade this is 'Archer', please come in?"

"Go ahead 'Archer'," said Galit's voice.

"We have uploaded the disk successfully. We're returning to-". Bowman's attention was suddenly caught by the screen on the Master Access Panel. It was flashing dark red and although in his EVA suit he couldn't hear anything, in his mind he heard a klaxon wailing loudly. Something was wrong. "Stand-by Eurylade." He depressed the transmit button as Barron rushed up to the screen to examine it. "What is it?"

"The coils are spooling but there's excessive fuel transfer coming in from the storage tanks," said Barron.

"One of the valves must have ruptured from being idle for so long," said Bowman who was trying to recall all he knew about FTL drives but even then that was only from flying Raptors. "There must be more than one fuel line filling these things, I'm going to try and slow them down to compensate."

"'Archer' this is Eurylade," crackled Galit's voice in their headsets. "What's going on over there? Our sensors are showing a heavy build up of Gamma radiation."

"Eurylade; one of the fuel transfer valves has ruptured. We're trying to compensate."

"If fuel is spilling into the FTL coils before they've spooled then the whole thing is going blow!" shot Galit. "I'm ordering you two off of there now. Fall back to the Eurylade and we'll get the hell out of here!"

Bowman looked at the screen. The two FTL coils were already amassing immense amounts of energy as tylium fuel poured into them.

"It's too late," he said to Barron before hitting his transmit button and repeating his dire warning for Galit to hear. "It's too late! Even if we could get the Eurylade off the station we wouldn't clear the blast. We've got about fifteen minutes before the station turns into a supernova. We've got to stop the coils."

"How do we do that?" asked Galit.

"You're going to have to destroy them," said Bowman knowing exactly what that would mean for him and Keene Barron. "Use one of the Vipers outside the station. Have the Centurion fire their Javelin missiles through the dissipation doors."

"You'll both be killed!" said Galit.

"If you don't do it then the Eurylade and everyone onboard will be killed as well as us. Complete your mission. Get those weapons and Vipers back to Hermes."

Galit didn't immediately respond. Bowman's wireless fell silent until Barron interrupted, "That will stop the coils from spooling but won't that ignite the tylium as it keeps flowing in?"

"We're in a vacuum. There's no oxygen for it to burn passed the initial blast. It'll just seep out into space." Bowman then pressed the transmit button once more. "Galit; you have to do this."

There was a short pause before a rather sullen voice replied, "I've just sent the order. I'm so sorry, 'Ace'."

**

* * *

**

"Instructions-confirmed."

The Centurion assigned to destroy the FTL coils was flying a Viper Mark III. Having confirmed its instructions the Centurion threw the Viper into a half roll before applying full throttle. The Viper's three main engines glowed brightly as it began to hurtle towards the station and the series of dissipation doors that were now opening ready to deflect the excess spatial distortion created by the FTL drive.

The Centurion pilot flipped down the Master Arm switch and its Viper's weapons became live. Having passed the wide upper section of the mushroom-shaped station the little fighter was now hurtling along the spine in between two of the coffin shaped landing craft.

The Centurion pilot could now see the doors around the FTL coils beginning to open. This was the only chance the Centurion would have to fire. With Javelin missiles selected on the weapon panel the weapon bays opened and the missiles extended outwards on their launch rails. The Centurion activated the Viper's targeting DRADIS and selected the FTL coils which were only barely visible through the nearest door. It was going to be a tough shot.

* * *

**SS-217  
Computer Core**

Both men had accepted that this would be their fate. They understood the situation and it was a big comfort to them to know they were doing this to save their comrades. The two of them decided that they were going to die on their feet to maintain some last shred of dignity but both were terrified. They may have been willing to give their lives but they were not superhuman and the fear was consuming them as they waited for the blast to kill them.

"I always knew it would be like this," said Barron. "When I joined the MoI I just knew that I wasn't going to die an old man."

"Are you married?" asked Bowman who suddenly realized he knew very little about Keene Barron even though this was the second time they had served together.

"Not even a year," he replied indicating his regret that he never got to spend more time with his wife.

"'Ace?'" asked Galit's voice from the Eurylade bridge.

"Go ahead," said Bowman trying desperately to hide his fear from her.

"I promise I'll take care of Hermes for you. I promise I'll protect them."

"I know you will," he said, his voice finally beginning to betray the fear of knowing he was about to die. "

**

* * *

**

With the target locked the Centurion depressed the trigger. Four Javelin missiles streamed off the launch rails under the Viper leaving behind long grey smoke trails. They raced away from the Viper towards the opened doors before they snaked downwards and through the entrance into the wide chasm where the coils were located and where Bowman and Barron were waiting for death in the computer core.

Each coil was allocated two missiles to insure their destruction. They each exploded exactly on target rupturing the outer shell that surrounded them. With nothing to contain it the immense energy levels that had built up inside them was suddenly released in a brilliant white flash followed by a shockwave of rapidly escaping energy.

As the shockwave travelled away from the coils it ripped open the chamber where the computer core was located. The last thing either Keene Barron or Artimus Bowman saw was an immense blinding light engulfing them.

It happened in just a few seconds but it was long enough for Artimus Bowman to utter the words, "I'm sorry Brooke."

* * *

**Fourteen Months before the Fall  
Delphi, Caprica  
Bowman Residence:**

It was one of those rare times when the Bowman and Tolan families were able to get together. With Colonel Artimus Bowman serving as XO of the Battlestar Cerberus and Rear Admiral Scott Tolan's time on the Victorious as the flag officer of Battlestar Group 66, time was a precious commodity. The evening had been a joyous one, especially since Lacey Tolan, who had become an honorary niece to Artimus and Brooke, had arrived earlier in the day from the Fleet Academy to visit. Now that dinner was over the five of them were sitting in the Bowman's living room watching a movie, a comedy titled 'About Last Night'.

"If you ladies will allow me, I need a moment alone with the Colonel," Scott said as he stood up from between Emily and Lacey on the sofa halfway through the movie. He grabbed his jacket and started to walk towards the den, a nickname given to the mess filled room that served as Artimus' study.

"I suppose I can spare him for a moment," Brooke said as she gave Artimus a playful jab on his arm. "He seems to be falling asleep as it is,"

Artimus laughed as he went through the motion of rubbing where she had hit him. "This is supposed to be a comedy right? I think the director of this movie needs to go back to film school."

Artimus kissed Brooke lovingly on the forehead as he stood up before following Scott into the den leaving the three of them to sit and enjoy the rest of the movie.

"What did you want to talk about?" Artimus asked once Scott had closed the door to give them privacy.

"As a flag officer I have some interesting items come across my desk, and this was something I wanted to let you know about," Scott said as he produced an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Artimus.

Artimus took the envelope and opened it. His eyes scanned the paper several times before he looked up at Scott and asked, "Is this for real?"

Scott nodded and smiled at his friend who had become closer than a brother and said, "It is my great honour to be the first to inform you Commander John Baptiste is retiring when Hermes comes back from its deployment, and that _you_ are to be offered command of the Battlestar."

"How did you find out about this?" asked Bowman much to Tolan's surprise. He was expecting the broad shouldered Caprican to have been more excited after all it's not everyday you get told you're getting your own Battlestar.

Scott flashed a smile that showed he knew more about what was going on, "Let's just say a certain person put your name forward to take command of Hermes."

"What about Bridget?" Artimus asked. Colonel Bridget Woods was Scott's XO on the Victorious, and it seemed that he was grooming her to take command of a Battlestar one day.

"Bridget's good but she's not quite ready for command yet. You, on the other hand, are."There was still a lack of excitement on Bowman's part. "What's with you? I thought you'd be exstatic?"

"Listen," Artimus began carefully as he was unsure of how to proceed, "I appreciate you putting my name in as a candidate for the job but…well…I have a job offer from the Pegase Transport Corporation. A pilot for their passenger liners. I served with one of their guys on Raptors during the Aerilon Tsunami and he's looking for a co-pilot. I've been leaning towards taking it."

"Co-pilot!" gasped Scott who couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Is this because of Brooke?"

"Partially, you know she's talked about wanting to start a family and, well, I want to be here for that. Can you imagine having to grow up without a father being there," Artimus said and it was then that he realized Scott's father dying when he was two, "Sorry, of course you do."

"Think nothing of it," Scott said as though he had already brushed it off, "Artimus, I want you to think hard about this." The tone in Scott's voice was almost pleading with him to reconsider. "You've put so much into your career and there's so much more you can do with it."

"Thank you for that, but I'm not like you Scott. For as long as I've known you it seems the uniform was custom-made for you to wear. You were destined for flag rank and it shows. I just think I'm ready to move on. Settle down."

"I know I'm going to run the risk of sounding like a broken record but you have it in you to be a great Cokmmander. I knew that back when I first met you on the Valkyrie. When we left for the SLA base I never doubted that you had my back and if something had happened to me then you would rise to the occasion and get the team out of there. I would settle for nothing less in any XO of mine and that's a quality this fleet needs in a Commander."

"I still didn't get everyone out though," Artimus said with a trace of bitterness.

"Zayre couldn't have been helped," Scott said referring to Ensign Morris Zayre, who had been killed in the firefight with the Sagitarron Liberation Army's troops.

"You know who else didn't make it out," Artimus said and neither had to elaborate on who he was referring to.

"She made a decision that day to stay behind so we could get out. Between her and the other three who stayed behind to cover our exit…they did what had to be done. Galit knew the risks and don't ever let anyone take that away from her."

"Yeah…just how many Battlestars have you been on during your career?" Artimus asked if for no other reason than to take the conversation away from the mission where he had met not only Scott Tolan but also Galit Malka. He allowed a moment to at least give her a thought, his mind flashing back to the service given to her at the headquarters of the Ministry of Intelligence. Keene Barron had given him a piece of information about her, that Galit's middle name was 'Shiri'.

"Well I'm sure you have looked at my personnel file."

"No, the thought never crossed my mind," Artimus said as he tried not to look incredibly guilty.

"Looking back, I've spent the majority of my career in space."

"I suppose you have no regrets about it, wouldn't you have rather done something in the civilian sector?"

Scott was quiet as he pondered it, "I've thought about it but with my last name and family history there wouldn't be a job out there that would take me. I still feel my choices were either the Basileus or the military."

"Why in the worlds can't I just leave the Fleet and have a normal life?" Artimus asked.

"I'm not telling you can't, but I want you to give it some thought before you make a decision," Scott said before adding, "Hermes is a ship with a good name, but the name has been tarnished over time with events that have transpired. Even now Commander Baptiste has had to deal with several small scandals that have taken place on that ship. They need someone who can give the old girl and its crew a semblance of pride again, to make it a ship the Colonial Fleet can be proud of and to show off. It's a task for a strong leader, and I think you're the one for it. It's something I don't think you would have being a civilian pilot. You may not believe me but once you get a command it gets in your blood and stays there. On that ship you can make a difference but it's your choice. Just remember that whatever you chose right here and now is going to affect the course of the rest of your life…"

Scott Tolan had no idea how true his words would prove to be.

* * *

**SS-217  
Present Day**

The white flash of the blast subsided as the last of the energy was expelled. Where the FTL drive and the computer core once sat there was now just a mix of charred and indistinguishable wreckage. Fuel was continuing to pour from the fuel lines turning to small balls of liquid in the gravity-less environment. Nevertheless the rest of the station had remained completely intact.

The Eurylade and her crew were safe as the ship remained nestled into its docking bay protected from the blast.

"'Archer', come in."

The woman's voice was transmitted out from the Eurylade, its tone silently praying for a response.

"Barron? 'Archer'?"

The transmissions passed over the station and travelled out into the red dust cloud in which the station was hidden.

"'Archer'…'Ace'?"

There would never be a response to Galit Malka's calls. There was simply no one there to reply to her. Keene Barron and Artimus Bowman were gone.

"Ace?"

**THE END**


	19. COMING SOON

**BATTLESTAR HERMES:  
ASCENSION  
**

**The third volume in the story of the refugee Battlestar and the five thousand people who call it "home". **

The loss of Bowman has left its mark on the Hermes.

Now under the command of Colonel Caleb Dytto many question his ability to get the five thousand survivors through the coming storm but is Galit Malka the person to replace him and will the crew trust her? With their plan to distract the Cylons a failure the pilots of Hermes' now find themselves fighting what can only be described as a ghost from the First Cylon War that's taunting them while repairs to the wounded Battlestar are underway and a power struggle consumes her crew.

Meanwhile, on Gemenon, a group of survivors learn that the Cylons aren't their only enemy and an important discovery makes them unwilling pawns in the Cylon plan for Hermes.


End file.
